Of Shadows and Lights
by The Sanctum
Summary: (OCxConnor, AC-III) Every war has its sides. Every side has its stories. And this is mine. Already as an adolescent I became a faithful member of the Templars, joining their cause and supporting them in every way I could offer. My part of the history turned into a journey that tore me away from everything I knew, throwing me into the harsh reality of love and pain. Hiatus.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_1766, August 18th_

It had all started that very day when my parents died.

A day of summer, not too far from my sixth birthday, I woke up at the smell of smoke and when I opened my eyes I looked straight into an inferno. The fume threatened to suffocate me and I rolled down from my bed, hitting the wooden floor. I tried to scream but the only sounds that escaped my sore throat was coughs and whimpers. The heat burned against my body and I braced myself for the painful death that was coming for sure.

Then _He _came to my rescue.

In the middle of the fire, he emerged victorious from the flames and lifted me from the creaking floorboards. He smashed the nearest window with a strong kick and quickly carried me through it and we escaped

onto a roof. I could see the dying sun, setting from its seat in the sky, and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Hey, are you alright?"

His accent immediately revealed his origin and I was surprised that a British nobleman would've saved me from certain death. I tried to focus my blurry eyes on his face but the tears made it impossible and I creaked out a weak answer.

"Yes. Thank… you, kind sir," I swallowed. "Did you… perhaps save my family as well?"

He dried my cheeks with his gloved hand and I blinked away the rest of the tears. When I saw his sad countenance it felt like I died.

"No," he replied and bit his lower lip. "I'm terribly sorry but I didn't find anyone except you."

My heart almost stopped beating as my mind repeated his words over and over again, rewinding them like a defect gramophone. _I didn't find anyone except you. _It felt like he had never saved me from the fire but left me there and was watching me burn. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to go back inside the house to search it thoroughly, even with the incinerating heat. But most of all, I wanted to _die_.

"Please sir," I begged and started to cry. "Please go back inside and check if it's true, that they're really gone."

His dark, hazelnut-colored eyes examined me for a moment before nodding.

"Can you stand up?"

I nodded and he crouched down to put me on my feet. He glanced back at me before leaping back into the burning building next to the one I stood on, the building that had contained my home for so many years.

I was taken aback at how agile he moved. He must've been around forty-years old but was motioning with such nimbleness that _I _felt old. The nobleman vanished into the smoke and even though I could see a troublesome amount of smoke and fire, something deep inside of me told me that he was going to be alright.

People on the street were finally starting to help subduing the fire and where I stood on the roof, I could see them carry wagons of water to extinguish the flames. Even small children helped with the cooperation.

"Hello again, little girl."

His voice startled me so much that I almost slipped but he quickly grabbed my arm.

"Be careful. Standing on roofs can be a bit tricky," he said jokingly and gestured for me to come closer. "Here, I'll get you down to ground level."

"Did you find my family?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. "Anybody?"

He shook his head slowly but didn't turn his face away from me.

"Those who planned the fire were very exact with their job," he said and frowned. "Damned be the assassins."

I brought myself closer to his arms and he raised me up.

"'Assassins'?"

The man shook his head and chose to ignore my question.

"Hold tight onto me and close your eyes."

I gripped his expensive-looking coat with my one hand and put the other around his neck while shutting my stinging eyes. Though I couldn't see anything, I felt how he slid down the roof and climbed down the wall. He reached the ground with a grunt and let me down.

"So, are you alright from now?" he asked and patted my head with his hand. "I have to take my leave; I was in quite a hurry when I saw the fire."

I didn't know what to answer. _Was he going to leave me? Why couldn't he stay? Who was he? _

"I'm thankful for you saving me, sir," I replied and tried not to cry again. _I had lost everything._ "Yes, I'm fine for now."

He nodded and turned his back at me, walking away, and waved a goodbye.

I was lying. I wanted to die. I had so many questions. But the only thing I could muster up to inquire was the simplest of them.

"Sir!" I ranted and sprinted after him. "Sir, if it's not too much to ask, I would very much like to know your name, please."

He looked down at me and smiled amused.

"My name is Haytham Kenway, little girl."

And then he disappeared.


	2. Chapter 1:1

**Chapter 1:1**

_1766, September 3rd_

Time passed.

I've always been more of a mature girl, never finding any joy in throwing snowballs at each other or sulking when I was neglected any object of interest, by my parents. It wasn't like we were especially lower-class… Nah, I didn't know who could've wanted to murder me and my family, succeeding in the latter. But neither I nor my sister knew what our parents were working as. It never even once occurred to me that they could've been drug dealers, gold-diggers or maybe just handling their normal jobs. All I knew was that we moved to Boston from Manchester when I was about two years old, a January morning 1762. I thought for a long time that we moved here, to the New World, because my parents wanted to start anew, as so many others were seeking: a new beginning. But I was wrong.

The remaining days of summer were hot and beautiful but I couldn't rejoice in anything. Who could blame me? I had lost my whole family, my house and all my belongings in a "tragic accident", caused by my mother not having turned off the stove. People actually _believed_ that. They were of course offering their condolences as well as a place in their home, but I knew they didn't want me there. I didn't take it personal; as a matter of fact, I actually denied their gifts and money. I didn't want any of that.

Why, you might wonder? Why didn't I just soak it up and move on? Why didn't I stay in some peaceful little cottage with a foster family and live a normal life, marry and get kids? Well, the answer is easy. I wanted revenge. I wanted to find those responsible for the death of my loved ones. And a little voice also whispered in the back of my head that I wanted to meet Haytham Kenway again, and get answers for all my questions.

I got to live at my aunt's house, in Central Boston, a couple of blocks away from the port. It always smelled of fish and wet nets hanging from lines to become dry. She was a single of slightly under thirty, and always got drunk at the bars and came home with strangers almost every night. It would be cruel of me to call her a bitch, but I got to admit: she really was a horrible substitute for my mother. But at least she let me stay in her apartment and she never forced me to do any cleaning or cooking. She worked in a print shop, earning her money in an honorable way and she kept me fed and well dressed. The best thing though, by living with my aunt, was that I still lived in Boston, a city I had come to love more than anything. The streets with the many traders and shop boutiques, the harbor with the jolly sailors as well as the secret hiding places everywhere and the good inhabitants. But most of all: I had met Haytham Kenway, the British nobleman here, and he, _he_, had saved my life.

I spent my days on the rooftops, something I had easy access to since my room had a window pointing out at an old, abandoned sentry, where guards no longer stood. It was tricky at first to maneuver from tile to tile but after some time – and with much dedication – I could easily run without slipping and even jump to buildings nearby. It had taken me much bravery to try to leap from house to house, but having seen Mr. Kenway navigate himself with such grace, I decided that if he could do it, so could I.

"Gosh! How can you do that?"

I shot a smile back at him and put my hands on my hips.

"How can you not? Really, are you that _bad_?" I mocked and giggled, finding delight in his misery. "Come on! We haven't got all the time in the world!"

Alex glared irritably at me and peeked over the ledge of the roof.

"It's so far down," he complained and shuddered. "I ain't doing this, you crazy cat."

His sloppy "American" accent made me laugh.

"It's not! Come on!" I yelled. We were on our way to the bakery store to buy some bread for my aunt, and I didn't want to be late for dinner. "Hurry now!"

Alex was my best friend since I moved to Central Boston, living next door with his parents that were tailors and dyers. He was two years older but stayed with me even though he was mocked by boys his age, and supported me with everything. Alex was like a brother to me, in his kind but teasing manner and he helped me do my homework. He was very good influence on me and understood me even when I didn't want him to, which could be as infuriating as sweet.

"Can't we just walk to there?" he asked and scratched his blonde head. "It's not even fifty yards from here."

I shook my head.

"No, we can't," I answered and sighed. "You got to learn some day, right? Or will you just stay home and wait for me at evenings?"

I knew poking his manliness would work and it did. Alex didn't even answer but walked backwards a couple of steps. He then rushed towards me and leapt.

"Argh!"

He hit the roof with his knees and grunted. I quickly helped him up and smiled.

"I knew you'd make it," I said and pulled his arm. "Come on, the baker might close his shop soon."

Alex just shook his head and frowned.

"I-I did it. I made it over."

I looked confusedly at him and started to walk to the other end of the building, where a ladder was waiting to lead me down. The bakery store was just on the other side of the road from there.

"What are you babbling about, Alex?" I asked and started to descend.

He followed me and waited to reply until we reached the ground.

"Mel… I should probably have told you before I followed you onto these crazy 'roof-expeditions' but I didn't want you to…"

His voice trailed off in the distance as I stared right into the brown eyes of Haytham Kenway. He was back.


	3. Chapter 1:2

**Chapter 1:2**

_1766, September 3rd_

A flash of recognition lighted his dark eyes. He gave me a nod before turning away his gaze and spurred the horse into a trot. I wanted to respond to him, maybe wink or say something, but bit back every possible greeting and just stared paralyzed at him. The day was warm but he wore the same blue coat and hat as last time we met. He was a much striking man, with his demeanor and proud way of speaking to one. People watched him in awe as he strode up on the street and disappeared around a corner. But he gave me one last glance before vanishing from my view.

"Mr. Kenway…" I whispered.

"Do you know that man?"

I turned to Alex, suddenly feeling shy, and awkwardly looked at my feet.

"I can't exactly say that I know him, it's just that…" I paused and tried to find something fitting to say. "His name is Haytham Ken—"

"I know," Alex interrupted and he had a strange look in his gray-greenish eyes. "Everyone knows who _he_is."

I couldn't help feeling offended. _Why does he sound so jaundiced?_

"What do you mean?" I asked when we hurried over the street. "I heard he saved the slaves and killed both Silas Thatcher and Edward Braddock. He helped us all when he got rid of those two spiteful men."

Alex grabbed my arm and hindered me from entering the baker's store. His otherwise so playful eyes were oddly serious.

"He only did those things because it helped him in some way," he replied with a low voice, examining a nearby passing group of soldiers. "I heard for a couple of years ago that he let burned down villages in Mohawk Valley. The Natives were furious with him and protested but he quickly quenched their voices as well."

I couldn't believe what Alex was telling me. _Would Mr. Kenway really do something that cruel?_

"What's your point, Alex?" I hissed. _You don't know him as well as I do. And I know he's not a man who saves a little girl after having killed a whole tribe. He's not that cold-hearted._

Alex sighed, realizing I no longer wanted to listen what he had to say.

"I just want you to be careful around him. He's not as good as they want you to believe."

"And who are these 'they'?" I asked, knowing his answer. "Are 'they' us British?"

He shook his head and the grip around my arm tightened.

"You know I don't care that you are from England. We all originally are. Or most of us at least." He quickly added.

"But you can't say the same for the 'redcoats', right?" I gestured towards the street, pointing at another patrol. "These soldiers aren't the same as 'American', right?"

Alex hushed at me, putting his other hand on my mouth.

"Not so loud," he whispered. "You know that people are angry. We're at the brink of a civil war. Many people might die, maybe your aunt, maybe my parents. Maybe even you."

I had never seen such a soft side from Alex and I didn't know how to reply. Even though I was merely six years of age, I knew the dire consequences a war would result in. Too many innocent human lives would be in danger and possibly wiped out in just one day. I was a good pupil in school and history was my favorite subject, thus I was very well educated in that. Not so much in math though. A war would be the last option the British wanted to choose. _I know that_.

"Hey, are you alright?" His words mirrored what I had heard in the beginning of the summer, from Haytham Kenway. Images suddenly blurred past my closed eyes, images of my burning home and the screaming of my sister. _Assassins._

"I'm fine, thank you," I replied and entered the store. The smell of freshly baked bread hit me like a cannon shot. "Do you have any proposals?" I continued and swept my arm over everything from yellow-crusted croissants, long baguettes to dark loaf and light rolls.

Alex smiled slyly and rubbed his chin.

"Give me a minute and I'll find something excellent for you, _mademoiselle_."

I raised my eyebrows at him and crossed my arms, but couldn't stop myself from grinning back.

"Why do you even try to talk French?" I asked and shook my head when he questioningly held up a blueberry-muffin. "You're pronunciation is _affreux_."

He shrugged and put back the muffin. Instead he reached for some cookies.

"I just wanted to try since you chose a French shop," he answered and frowned when I declined his offer again. "I didn't know you liked the French."

I could hear an undertone of irony in his voice but ignored it as rubbish. _He's just a bit grumpy, that's all._

"I don't have any grudges against French people," I said with a low voice so that the shopkeeper wouldn't be able to hear. "I don't have any grudges against _anyone_."

I was suddenly spookily aware of a couple of eyes peeking at me and quickly turned around. Alex and I were alone in the boutique, except for the shop attendant, but that was no insurance. The person, or the persons, could've been stalking us from a window. I looked outside and saw that people were on their way home. Less and less were out now and I saw no children my age.

"Just take something; I want to get out of here, now," I said to Alex. He nodded and seemed concerned about my sudden change of subject but didn't say anything. It was clear that he had crossed the line when he commented about the French.

"Sure."

He hurriedly searched the rest of the shop and picked. My aunt had given him the money – and the responsibility coming with that money – and he paid the fleshly cashier. I, on the other hand, approached the window closest to me and stared out. There was nothing out of the ordinary but I couldn't shake off the unpleasant feeling of someone watching me.

"Shall we away then?"

Alex opened the door for me and we ran all the way back to my aunt's place, without taking any routes by the roofs. I couldn't shake off the feeling of eyes burning holes into my back.


	4. Chapter 1:3

**Chapter 1:3**

_1766, September 3rd_

We finished our supper by nine and my aunt followed Alex home… which was kind of stupid since we anyways met outside my window as soon as she fell asleep. I would whistle our secret melody and he got up by climbing a ladder we had found a couple of weeks ago. The nights were spent watching the sky, talking and maybe eating something. The phenomena of a shooting star never stopped amazing me and I wished dearly every time I had the luck to witness one. I wished that my life was going to be more than just _this_.

She was for once at home this night, not going to the bar getting overly drunk and sleep with some stranger, which would make things a bit trickier but I told myself that an hour extra wouldn't hurt to wait. When the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked half past ten, I sneaked outside my room to get my coat. Some nights were chilly and I had a feeling that this was a night of such.

"Auntie?"

When she didn't reply, I advanced to the hanger above the timeworn shoe-rack and grabbed my peach-colored coatee. I had gotten it as a "move-in-present" from Alex's mother and I loved it very much. It was skillfully stitched and the color reminded me of strawberry bubblegum. When Alex first had given me the garment, I had been suspicious. What kind of people gave a coatee to a little girl? But his explanation and kind words had gotten to me at start and they had warmed my heart to the core.

"_I heard you got out of a burning building all by yourself! You must be as brave as a lion! Here, a gift from my family and I; we thought nothing less than a general's uniform would suit you! My name is Alex and I live next-door. Let's hang out sometime, aye?"_

I hurried back to my room and unlatched the window. The night was cold indeed and I cursed at the forthcoming winter. _Damn, it would be cold_.

"Ouch!"

I had barely opened it when Alex's familiar voice disrupted the otherwise quiet of the sleepy city.

"Gosh! Not so loud!" I hissed at him and quickly slid through the small opening. My aunt had let install a kid-safe that limited the angle which the window could be opened, but that didn't hinder me from getting out. "I think even the Indians heard you from here."

Alex grimaced and caressed his arm. He was also wearing a coat.

"You worried me," he said and rose from his crouched position. "You weren't whistling at the usual time so I thought something had happened. I came to check."

I smiled at him.

"Thank you, Alex."

He shrugged and quickly turned away but I could see his smile.

"Come on, let's have a challenge," he suggested and walked to the other side of the sentry. "I have a prize."

I glanced back into the apartment to assure myself that my aunt wasn't awake. No lights were on and I couldn't apprehend any sound from inside.

"Sure," I answered and gently closed the door. I didn't want my room to be cold by the time I came back from my nocturnal adventures but if one would shut it too hard, it wouldn't budge open and thus lock me out. I promise you, my aunt was less than pleased whenever she discovered me on the roof.

"What's the prize?" I wondered. Alex was holding something in his right hand. "And what kind of competition is it?"

He showed me a gigantic blueberry-muffin and grinned mischievously.

"Did you _steal_ it?" I exclaimed, my voice both angry and surprised. _This isn't like him_.

Alex shook his head and hid the muffin inside his pocket. My eyes widened and I gasped.

"You stole it!"

"No, I bought it from the baker."

I frowned and approached him with my arms outstretched.

"Give me it," I commanded and glared furiously at him. "You bought it with Auntie's money!"

He grinned even wider and vaulted over the wooden fence surrounding the old guard post. I hurried after.

"Well, yeah," he replied and took another step backwards. "You can have it… on one condition."

I sighed.

"Sure," I said and crossed my arms over my chest. "Tell me."

Alex giggled and leapt off the roof. Instinctively, I reached for him but didn't get any hold of his coat. He landed in a bale of hay and tumbled out of it.

"There goes the prize!" I yelled down at him. "Wow, you're stupid."

He laughed and ruffled up his blond hair. I saw him search his pockets and he held up a seemingly undamaged muffin.

"Who do you call stupid?"

I rolled with my eyes at him and started to climb down the wall.

"Wrong way," I heard him say and turned my face to look at him.

"What?"

Alex pointed at the hay bale.

"You have to land in that," he instructed with a grin. "Or are you too afraid?"

I quickly climbed up on the roof and looked down at the street. It was far down. So far down that it made me feel slightly dizzy.

"Come on! I know you can do it."

Alex's voice suddenly sounded supportive. I immediately realized that he wanted to teach me this. And he was poking _my _manliness to trigger the recklessness that was such a big part of my personality. Or excuse me, femininity. Wait, does that even exist?

"Today, please; I'm positively buzzing with energy. Let's go to the harbor!"

I took a deep breath and focused my gaze on the heap of hay. _I can do this._

"Does it hurt?" I asked and couldn't even cloak my fear. "It's really far down."

He smiled warmly at me.

"Do you think I would ever hurt you in any way?"

I smiled back at him and shook my head.

"Never," I answered and jumped.


	5. Chapter 1:4

**Chapter 1:4**

_1766, September 3rd_

When I think back today about my youth and how my life progressed I sometimes wonder how my life would be if I had never met _him. _Would I be happier like that? A normal life either in the city or on the countryside, working hard every day to please my husband in any way he would like to and bear several kids? Would I be happier if that was my destiny?

Alex and I decided to spy on a man who carried a brown package. We hadn't found anything interesting on the docks other than drunken sailors who called on us to come closer and an old baglady who begged for some money. I had offered her my half-eaten muffin but she shouted dirty words at me and shooed at me to get the hell out of her face. It had been a gesture of kindness but her ungratefulness made me almost bury my fist in her dirty countenance. Though, Alex quickly pulled me away from her.

"Where do you think he's going?" I asked quietly. My stomach was roaring in hunger and I tried my best to keep it down. "We've passed this place twice already."

Alex soaked his lips and frowned.

"I don't know, it's strange," he agreed and squinted with his green-gray eyes. "But look at him, he's poorly dressed and… I think his skin is dark."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. We were hiding in a backyard and stalked the man through the alley. The darkness cloaked us enough to feel safe being so close.

"He's an _Indian_?" I exclaimed. _What is an Indian doing here?_

"Native American," Alex corrected and shook his head. He slid down from his position on some crates and crouched down to me. "And no, he's not a Native American. He's dark. Like dark-dark."

I didn't understand what he meant and pushed him aside from the boxes.

"What are you trying to say? Is there something wrong with his face?" I wondered and climbed up the crates.

The man stood at the same place where he had for maybe a quarter of an hour, leaning casually on the fences of somebody's house. He wore a dirty hat and covered most of his face, but I saw his hands.

"He's _black_!"

Alex sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And?" he asked gesturing me to continue. "What's with it?"

I turned away my face from the man and glared at Alex.

"Nothing, have I implied anything else?"

"It sounded like you meant it in a cruel way."

I resisted the urge to slap him and decided to ignore answering. But when I again was faced towards the street, an ice-cold feeling filled my body. The man was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello, young children."

I spun around to see Alex and the stranger a couple of yards in front of us, the latter hiding in the shadow of a house. He slowly approached us, raising the both of his hands, and talked with a calming voice.

"I want you no harm."

I didn't know what to answer but fortunately for me, Alex knew. He took a step forward and held out his arms in a protective way.

"Back off," he warned and swallowed. To my surprise I could sense no fear in his voice. "Back off, or I'll get the guards coming."

The man came to a halt and I saw a flicker of a smile display on his lips.

"I won't hurt you nor your sister, don't worry. I'm here on personal business and I would be happy to have you stop following me," the man said, his raspy voice uncovering his age. I guessed he was around fifty years old. "This is dangerous for kids your age to know about. Go home."

"What is an Afro-American like you doing in Boston?" My question spurted out before I could stop myself. "It's not often I see black people if not in chains."

"He's not from Africa."

I looked at Alex in surprise.

"What do you mean?" I wondered and stepped down from the boxes. "Look at his skin—"

"His accent indicates else," Alex interrupted and took a step closer to the stranger. "You're not half-blood either."

The old man chuckled and was just about to open his mouth in reply when another voice cut in.

"Are ya sulking around in the dark 'cause ya don' think yar visible, talkin' to yarself?"

A bulky man accompanied by two others walked into the yard and brought his knuckles together in a threatening way. They approached the stranger from the other side of the backyard where another alley led out. I and Alex were hidden behind a tall, wooden fence from their angle and the black man nodded at us to hide, almost imperceptibly.

"No, because I needed some privacy."

The man who had spoken seemed like the leader of the trio and he laughed scornfully. Alex and I peeked through holes in the paling and viewed the confrontation. My heart was beating rapidly in fear – _what if they find us _– but I couldn't help but feel like a coward, where I hid.

"Are ya talkin' back, aye?"

I guessed that the humongous man was a sailor, judging by his looks and way of speaking, but it also felt a bit… _strained_. Like the man was playing a role. But what did I know; he could as well be like that overall.

"I came all the way to Boston," the black man answered. "Now, what do you want?"

The man laughed again, a sound that I had already come to hate. _Who was he? What did he want that man?_

"The lastly month pay wasn' even half of what I demanded. An' now ya don' even have a _third_," the bald man answered and grinned, "I've called ya here to show ya what happens when ya don' listen to me."

Then he directed a strong kick towards the stranger's left knee. A sickening crunch voiced the backyard and my stomach revolted. The dark-skinned man groaned in pain and pulled up his leg to his chest. Another kick blew out his breath and he soundlessly screamed in agony.

I don't know what flew into me but an almost outworldly anger filled my body and before I knew it, I stepped out from my hiding spot and ran towards the hostile man. I picked up a thick branch and screamed:

"Get away from him!"

I growled and swung with all my might, aiming for his crouch. It successfully hit and he grunted in pain. I continued to hit him over and over again, searching for any possible weak spot. He fell over – maybe not of pain but of mere surprise – and I brought my primitive weapon towards his face. The blow crushed his nose and he tried to defend himself with his arms. It didn't take more than maybe a minute but that was more than enough for me to inflict major damages unto him.

But suddenly, a loud bang echoed in the distance and I couldn't move. My hands were paralyzed and I dropped the branch. I tried to say something but it would've been easier to talk with my tongue cut off. My vision became blurry and I felt my knees buckle under me, no longer able to support my weight.

_I… I've been shot._


	6. Chapter 2:1

**A/N:**

The site fucked up yesterday til now; I apologise for being so late. Now, here's the next part!

**Chapter 2:1**

_1766, September 3rd-September 4th_

_Help me._

I felt the ground disappear under me and struggled to open my eyes. _I don't want to die, not today and not like this._

"Try to relax, little girl, we're almost there."

His voice struck me like a hammer and I opened my eyes to confirm the obvious, afraid that this was nothing but a dream.

"Mr. Kenway?" My voice cracked and I coughed. Something hot trickled down my mouth and I cleared my throat. "What… happened?"

I suddenly realized that he was carrying me. Memories from the last time I had been saved by the man came flooding back, but this time I could immediately clarify a peculiar odor. It smelled like sweat, water and rust.

"You are badly hurt, I'm taking you to the nearest doctor," he said. I tried to look at my body but he shook his head. "Don't. You wouldn't believe that you are alive."

I tried to answer but the warm liquid almost choked me. The world spun around me and I lost consciousness yet again.

"Is she going to be alright?"

_Auntie_.

"Yes, I assure you that she will be completely restored to her normal state."

_Mr. Kenway. What—_

"I've been worried sick!" she sobbed. "She always sneaks out during nights but always manages to get back before I enter her room to wake her up. I don't think she knew that I actually was aware of her outdoor escapes, but her friend told me. He's a good boy, that one."

_Auntie… I'm so sorry._

"Ah, do you know if he perhaps accompanied on her small… adventures?"

"Of course, they are practically inseparable! He ran here and told me she had gotten in trouble. What happened?"

_Please, don't tell her—_

"She fell from the roof and unfortunately landed on a sharp tool. I've already given her the care that was required for the moment but she is still in a critical state. I'm taking her to a very skillful doctor in New York."

_Thank God for good liars. Wait. NEW YORK?!_

"Can't you treat her here? There must be someone capable of—"

"No. If you want her to live she must travel to New York."

_Please, no, let me stay. What about Alex? Auntie?_

Silence.

"Can you promise to protect her? Please, she's everything to me.."

_Auntie…_

"Certainly, Mrs. …?"

"_Miss_ Rawling, sir. And what—"

"Haytham Kenway, a pleasure to meet you if only the circumstances were to be different. Now, I better away; I don't want to lose more time than necessary."

_No, Auntie! Don't let him take me to _NewYork_! I don't want to leave you and Alex!_

"Then you better off, Mr. Kenway. Take care of her; I don't want to lose her as well."

"I will, I swear it."

* * *

I couldn't breathe. The flames were everywhere, threatening to consume me, to suffocate me to death. I didn't see anything but the fire, nowhere to hide, nowhere to run; I was stuck and the increasing heat made me panic. I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Shush, little girl, you're waking the whole city."

I sat straight up in a stranger's bed and stared into the wall in front of me. I rubbed my temples and blinked away the rest of the sleep.

"Just a nightmare, sir," I replied and tried to calm myself down. "I… I am afraid of fire."

"Logical, your fear heritages from the day you heard your family burn to death," he answered and I turned my head towards his voice. The tiniest glim of moonlight escaped into the room through the thick draperies covering the windows, and I saw him approach me.

"Mr. Kenway," I greeted him.

He touched the tip of his triangular hat and nodded in response.

"Why do you always get in the thickest of trouble?" he asked, keeping his tone so monotone that I didn't know if he was joking or scolding me.

"Bad luck." It sounded like a question. "Why are you always there to pick me up?"

The corners of his mouth twitched in something that must've been a smile but it was too dark for me to be sure.

"Bad luck," he answered.

I waited for him to continue but he didn't. I decided to rise from the bed but realized, to my poor heart's surprise, that I couldn't move my legs.

"What's… what is wrong with me, sir?" I asked and couldn't keep the panic from rising up again. I'm not going to lie; I was terrified. "My legs, they won't budge!"

"A side-effect from the strong drugs Mr. Church is sedating you with," he replied then paused and thoughtfully placed his hand over his mouth and half of his nose. "It seems like we need to increase the dose."

I clenched my fists. _I am in New York. I am all alone here._

"Why did you bring me to New York?" I wondered. "Why do you even bother caring for me? You don't even know me."

Mr. Kenway was silent for a while and when he took a deep breath I thought he was going to answer but he just sighed.

"Well?"

"Let me think of something."

I frowned and glared at him.

"What?"

"You remind me much of my sister."

I didn't understand what he had meant first but suddenly felt shy. _How do I answer to that?_

"She was a very spirited girl as young, always mocking me for being scared of heights. But I overcame that fear very soon," he continued and sat down on the bed, next to my feet. "As well will you. You won't let your fear of flames stand in your way. You won't let _anything_ stand in your way."

He looked at me calmly.

"I stand with you an offer, perhaps a bit hasty considering your very young, immature age but I'm sure you have a mind of your own," he continued and his brown eyes didn't avert from mine even once. "I would like to have you as my pupil. I'll be your teacher and your superior. I want you to join the Templars."


	7. Chapter 2:2

**Chapter 2:2**

_1769, May 12th_

I trained hard. Days passed then ventured into weeks that developed to months and years. Time passed quicker than I had thought it would be, and before I knew it I had been of service to Haytham Kenway for almost four years. With regularly sent letters I told my aunt what I did and what I saw in the big city of New York. Both I and Mr. Kenway had agreed to lie; my aunt would hardly let me join the Templars, even after she was told that they were fighting the killers of my parents. So I had thought up with a white lie that, instead of me training how to rob and stun targets, I was ill for months, after my injury had healed, in a foreign disease that had struck New York. I knew that my aunt had no connections here and would believe what I wrote. It was hard to lie, because I knew I was taking advantage of her and that she was probably worried sick for me. We were the only ones of the Rawlings in the New World. The rest of my relatives had stayed in London, not willing to explore America and its possibilities. I was the only family she had left.

I was taught how to fight older and larger opponents and how I would use their strengths to my advantage. My weapons were few but I learned the vulnerable points on a human body. I also perfected the skill to climb on walls and roofs, how I would feign my innocence and use my environment beneficially. But there was a lot more to learn than just how to fight; Haytham taught me the ways of the Templars, how they were founded and what they had done under all these thousands of years; especially why they were a secret society and who they were feuding with: the Assassins. Mr. Kenway, sparingly, told me of his past but never why he still was in the Colonies. I didn't ask him about it and neither did he bring it up.

He travelled back to the Great Britain, a chilly day in May 1769, and told me that there was nothing more he could teach me. There was but my lack of experience that became his biggest worries but he left me in good spirits, proud of my progress. And while he sailed back to London to "finish some business", I on the other hand, was finally allowed to return to my home. Boston.

"Dear Lord, you made it back!"

I smiled at her but was brutally pushed aside by a passing man. I fell backwards and muddied my clothes; it had rained all April to my content but now I regretted ever wishing for a raindrop.

"Hey, watch out where you're going!"

My aunt hurried to me and helped me up. By the time she had stopped brushing away the mud from my jacket, the man had already vanished.

"People these days," she muttered and gestured for me to open the gates to the building. "They are so angry nowadays; I fear that a revolution is near."

I questioningly looked at her but she shrugged and took my luggage. I opened the door and we staggered up the narrow stairway. The apartment had gone through a whole renovation, with a new paint on its walls and different furniture.

"I thought I was only absent for four years; not a whole decade," I said jokingly and took off my drenched coat and pants. "What has happened?" _Do you have a boyfriend?_

She suddenly blushed and I saw how she tried to hide it with a sneer.

"Humph, like I wouldn't be able to find my one," she replied and examined me. "Let me see your wound."

I grimaced but obeyed and pulled up the hem of my shirt. The bullet had not gone through my flesh completely – fortunately enough for me, or I would have been dead by now – because of the weapon's poor design and lack of use. For a while I had suffered from blood poisoning, due to the gunpowder flowing into my veins but Mr. Benjamin Church had immediately treated it with nothing less than excruciating pain and a lot of dizzy "not-awake-but-not-asleep" days. I had been in a haze for a couple of weeks during the time when my wound healed, not being able to keep much down, but I was determined to get through with it, alive.

I would bring justice to my family's name and _vengeance_. Wherever I went I was known as "the poor girl who lost her parents", or "the poor girl who had such an idiotic mother", but there were a lot worse like "the girl with alcoholic parents" or "the girl who was abused by her father and sat the house on fire". People met me with all kinds of different reactions and attitudes. And I hated them all.

"Dear Lord; _look at you_." She wrinkled her nose and touched my scar. It was a brown, ugly mark on my sternum. "Does it hurt?"

We both knew what she really meant. _How did it feel to be shot?_

"No, not really," I answered and removed her hand. "The coatee that Alex's parents got for me protected me well."

"Oh yes, now I remember! Alex!" She slapped her forehead with a dirt hand and I tried not to laugh at her stupidity. "You got to see him now! I bet he's waiting for you on the roof. He has been there every day for a week now, since I told him you were on your way home."

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"What's with him?" I asked. I was not keen on meeting him. He had after all left me to fend for myself on that day so long ago. "Does he want to say something?"

She chased me into my room with my luggage on her shoulder.

"I'll get dinner and your stuff ready, just go and meet him," she replied and put her hands on her hips. "You haven't met with him for ages, so why not? Is there something bad between you two?"

I nodded slowly and started to change into some clean clothes, trying not to look her in the eyes.

"Well, I don't know," I admitted reluctantly and brushed my hair with my fingers. "He never answered on any of my letters."

A lie, I had never sought to seek any contact with him since that horrible, but yet so lucky day, when I had been shot. His cowardice had made me feel sick and I knew that I had lost all of that respect he had earned under the time when we were each other's company.

"Oh, really?" I did not like her tone and my heart skipped a beat as she continued. "Because he came to me, crying and really torn up, and asked if you had died. I assured him that you were safe in New York and sending me letters ever so often. I had of course taken for granted that you shared your experience with him as well, but he knew nothing about your well-being."

I swallowed hard and tried to drag on, not wanting to answer her. _Of course, he had told her. Alex… I'm so very sorry._

"I…" I started and met her curious gaze. "I... was…"

Suddenly, a knocking came from the window. The world slowed down as I turned my eyes and locked onto him. _Alex…_


	8. Chapter 2:3

**Chapter 2:3**

_1769, May 12th_

"Hey."

I bit my lower lip and looked away.

"Hi."

The silence was almost suffocating and even thought it was freezing outside where we stood on the old sentinel, I felt too hot. My shirt suddenly seemed two sizes smaller and I loosened it up.

"So…"

"Well…"

We quietly watched each other and compared the person who had once been one's best friend; now the same person, but who seemed like a fully different being. _Had we changed so much that we didn't even recognize the other?_

Alex's hair had grown longer and with a brighter shade. His face had already lost its baby fat and revealed a slim face with a dimple in his chin. He was longer than me by maybe three inches and his body shape was lean and relaxed. Green-grey eyes waited patiently for me to finish my examination and I couldn't hold myself back any longer. It was him,_ Alex._

"Alex, I'm so damn sorry!" I exclaimed and ran forward to him. We had been standing still, gazing at each other, not wanting to forgive. "I'm so sorry!"

I didn't know that I was crying until it was too late, and by then I didn't even care about it. All I knew was that I had betrayed my friend in the stupidest of ways, being an immature fool and a spoiled little brat. I realized that when we hugged each other for what had seemed like decades of isolation from each other instead of a couple of years. He held me close to him and I cried, cried and cried. _How could I have been so stupid? Why had I held a grudge – yes I had – against him under these past years? Of course he didn't follow me into death; he brought help and told Auntie. What else could he have done? Fight them? No, I was stupid to run straight into that brawl, I am nothing else but a fool. But now when I think about it, where did the black man go?_

"Forgive me," I sobbed and tried to hide my face in his shirt. I didn't want him to see me cry. "I've been an awful friend."

He patted my head and I could hear a smile in his voice.

"I have as well. I'm sorry for that day…"

Alex's voice broke and I understood that he was close to tears as well. I giggled and pushed him away from me.

"You're crying?"

"Hey, am I not – but you are."

I dried my cheeks with my sleeve and smiled at him.

"Oh, but I can see something—"

"I got something in my eye," he replied and turned his face away from me. I could see him motion his hand upwards to his face. "It's pollen, probably."

"It's not even in season for that now, you fool," I added but decided not to annoy him further. "I've missed you."

Alex turned around and smiled at me.

"I've missed you as well."

We decided to climb into the apartment again and it was timely; a sudden shower of rain poured down over the city and embedded Boston in a grayish mist. The smell of warm soup exploded in my nose as soon as I entered and my stomach growled in protest. _God, I'm hungry._

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" I asked Alex and started to pack up my belongings. "Auntie is cooking something delicious, I reckon."

He sank down on my old bed – that I hadn't used for years now – and to my surprise I saw that it wasn't dusty as it should be. My whole room was tidy. It hurt in my heart when I understood that my aunt had cleaned here and I wasn't far away from bursting into tears again.

"Sure, I'll stay."

I threw in my clothes into the drawer and started to sort out the rest of the bag's contents. The beautiful porcelain vase, that I had wrapped a sweater around for it to survive the journey, was flawless and I almost couldn't wait to give it to my aunt. Her birthday would be soon and I would save it until then. The vase had been expensive but I had run errands and worked as a messenger to collect the amount of money it would take to buy it.

"So how was New York?"

I shrugged as if saying "nothing much" but it had indeed been a wonderful time there. The people were good, albeit a bit stingy, but that didn't bother me much. New York had grown a lot more than Boston and was almost what one could call a real city.

"I heard you went there with that man, Mr. Kenway," he continued and his voice got a chilly edge that I tried to ignore. "Why did he even help you?"

"I don't know," I said, honest with my answer, and was surprised of something sharp. "Ouch."

Blood trickled down the palm of my hand and I cursed. I had forgotten the only weapon I was allowed to keep by Mr. Kenway. He didn't let me wield neither swords nor pistols but had offered me a small dagger. It was in self-defense, he had explained, as it seemed like I always got into the worst of troubles. I had also taken a vow not to threaten any innocent or to show the weapon to anybody.

"Mh?"

I quickly glanced backwards and to my relief, Alex hadn't seen the wound. He was lying on the bed and stared up into the ceiling, his hands somewhere beneath his messy blonde hair and with his feet dangling an inch above the floor.

"Nothing," I answered and searched for some cloth to stop the bleeding. The luck was on my side and I found a grey handkerchief. I tied it carelessly around my hand and hoped that no one would notice. The sanguine liquid made me immediately recollect the memories from when I got shot and I suddenly realized: _where had the black man run off to?_

"By the way," I kicked the empty bag under my bed and sat down next to Alex. "What happened to that man? The one with the package, you know."

He rose up and scratched the back of his head. We suddenly heard his stomach rumble and burst out laughing.

"Well," Alex paused to catch his breath. "As soon as you grabbed that branch I knew you were out on really thin ice. I hurried to your aunt and bade her to help me search for some guards. Then we heard the shot and we ran there. You were gone and the men; dead. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was wondering if it was you who had killed them or…"

He was silent and I waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt his story.

"It seems as you were saved, fortunately enough. I don't know what I would've done if you died that night."

I caringly put my hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to continue. His voice was breaking ever so slightly and he took a deep breath before he proceeded to tell me about the rest of the horrible night.

"I first thought he was dead but he called at me when I got closer. By then, the whole neighborhood had woken and there were so many people out on the streets. Some guards even thought they were starting a revolt but they quickly got everything under control. They arrested me at first, thinking I was a thief who had robbed then hurt the poor man, but your aunt quickly came to my rescue."

"After a lot of arguing, they surrendered to your aunt's witty tongue and let me go. By then, they had already called for a doctor and a stretcher. I stayed with him and asked for his family and where he lived, his name, etcetera; whatever to keep him conscious. He told me his name was Achilles – funny name, I know – and that he lived alone in the Davenport Homestead, you know that gigantic house a couple of miles from here. I thought it was abandoned."

"I should probably travel there," I said when he had finished.

His eyebrows shot up high.

"What are you going to do there?" he asked and his expression was worried. "You've just gotten here; you can't leave again."

I sighed. _I don't even know if he can give me a lead, but at least a name. A name will be enough. I will take out my revenge on the bastard who shot me._

"I want to see if he can give me any information about the man who almost killed me," I answered truthfully. "He'll pay for it."

Alex's eyes widened and he grabbed me by my shoulders.

"Absolutely not," he said and shook his head, giving emphasis to his words. "Oh no, you're _not_ doing that."

"You're not my father," I replied and met his angry eyes. "I can do whatever I want."

"No, I'm telling your aunt."

I sighed again and clenched my fists.

"They almost killed me and here you are, saying that I should just let the ordeal pass?" I brushed away his hands. "Bullshit, I'm getting them."

"Watch your tongue," he warned. "It's not ideal for such a young girl like you to talk like that, much less to want to kill somebody."

I shrugged and rose from the bed.

"I'm not just some 'young girl'," I argued. It painfully reminded me of how my aunt's girlfriends treated me. Like I was some broken doll, just waiting for someone to come and pick me up. No. "I'm—"

I interrupted myself. I had been just a hair's breadth from revealing my loyalty to the Templars. Alex watched me in confusion, his green-gray piercing into mine. His mouth opened to reply when I was saved.

"Dinner's done!"

We walked in silence to the kitchen, refusing to look at the other. It hurt me, it really did, especially since we had forgiven each other just before. I hated to fight or even have a quarrel with Alex but I would not back down from this. I would travel to the Davenport Homestead and seek out Achilles. Everything that Mr. Kenway had taught me would come to use now and I would get real experience – _as_ _well_ _as_ _sweet_ _vengeance_.


	9. Chapter 2:4

**Chapter 2:4**

_1769, October 5th_

The Davenport Homestead was a lot larger than I had originally thought. I could see the mansion's silhouette on a high hill, standing majestically towards the sea. It had taken my aunt at least five months before she let me out of her sight and I had been forced to earn every penny for the trip myself.

The forest at this area was especially famous for its nice surroundings and the rich wildlife. I had paid some hunters to let me join the party and escort me to the place, and thus far the journey had been without any hindrance. They were a pack of loud men but held their word to the very end.

"Here is it, the Davenport Homestead."

I jumped down from the wagon and brushed my pants.

"Thank you very much for taking me here," I said and took my bag. "So, shall we rendezvous in an hour or so?"

The leader of the group threw his head backwards and laughed maliciously. I stiffened and got ready for my dagger in the backpack.

"I only promised you that you'd get here," he answered and shrugged. "If you don't want to either wait here for a week or pay, you'll have to walk home!"

His eyes glimmered wickedly and I took a step backwards, towards the house.

"No, sir, but I have no money." I swallowed and reached into my bag, my fingers slithering around the handle of my weapon. "Please, you must take me back to Boston as well. I can't stay here."

The man shook his head and scoffed.

"Do you think everything comes for free in this world?" He eyed me once then sat up on his horse. The rest of his crew barked out in laughter. "Nope. Pay or stay."

I opened my mouth to say something highly inappropriate – which I'm not going to repeat – but stopped myself. _These men are pigs. There's no point in wasting your breath on them; they still won't listen._

"I'd rather stay," I replied and turned my back against them. They urged their horses into gallop and the sound of their loud voices disappeared in the thick forest. I tried to think brightly about my situation but it was hard. The evening was near and I could already see the sun setting.

As I walked up towards the house my eyes caught upon a stable and a carriage. It made me feel at ease as I decided that I would ask Achilles if he could give me a ride to Boston as thanks for me saving his life. I had been worried if he was at home presently but the lights in the house were lit and emanated a soft glow. My feet hurriedly ventured up the small steps to the door and I knocked on it.

"Hello? Is anybody at home?"

I got no answer and pounded the door again.

"Anyone? Mr. Achilles?"

A chilly wind brushed my hair into my face, blinding me for a moment and I almost had a heart attack when somebody replied:

"He's not in at the moment. What's your business?"

I grimaced and tried to tame my hair.

"I would like to speak to him, it that isn't too much to ask for," I said and finally got my hair under control.

The boy in front of me couldn't be much older – perhaps five at maximum – but his face was serious and almost stern. His eyes were brown and watched me cautiously. I immediately recognized him as a Native American, with his dark skin and raven-colored hair. He also wore strange clothes made of animal skin. The boy's face reminded me slightly of someone else… but I couldn't put my finger on it. All I knew was that it felt like I had seen him somewhere before.

I didn't know what to think. Alex had told me that Achilles had no family but yet here I saw a boy. Though, when I scrutinized him closer, I realized that he and Achilles were not bonded by blood. But still, what did he do there?

"Would you like to wait inside for him? He's supposed to come back today. I'm sure he's here any minute now."

The boy's English was perfect and I couldn't notice the slightest of an accent but I knew that my guess was right; he was a Native and not Achilles's son.

"Sure, why not?"

I took off my backpack and reached for my dagger once again. If he would try something, I would not hesitate to kill him.

He gestured for me to enter and I walked into the house. It was a grand construction, no doubt about it, but I could see how badly in shape it was. Most of the furniture was covered with white blankets and there was dust everywhere.

"You want something to eat? Water? Anything?"

The boy examined me and I clutched my weapon harder.

"What is your name?" I asked and crossed my arms. _Who are you?_

"I'm Ratonhnhaké:ton," he answered and carefully sat down on a chair, almost like he was afraid that it would break.

"Raght-také-non?"

He was just about to reply when we were disrupted. The door suddenly opened and a gust of rain came through, together with the man I had saved three years earlier.

"You, close the door!"

He threw his soaked hat on a coat-hanger, together with his long jacket and black gloves. I could hear a soft thudding and tried to search for the source. Then I saw his cane and understood that the very unlucky night long time ago, had made him a cripple.

"And who's this? Your friend?"

I cleared my throat.

"I'm someone who saved your life," I answered. "Someone you now are in debt to."

Achilles squinted with his eyes like he was focusing on my face and then they widened almost ridiculously.

"You… you're that girl who got shot!" he exclaimed and his voice was angry. "Why did you even do that? You ruined everything!"

I couldn't believe what I was listening to. Of anything he could've told me, he chose to say the most infuriating. I wanted to scream at him but restrained myself. _Discipline, _I remembered Haytham Kenway say, _discipline and control._

"I saved your _life_," I said with gritted teeth. "And this is your thank? Oh my, I only took a _bullet_ for you."

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It was all in control. You didn't have to do anything." He sighed again. "But of course, you did nothing know."

Suddenly it was the Indian boy who spoke.

"What is she talking about, Achilles? You almost got her _killed_?"

Achilles shook his head and tapped his way into what I guessed was the dining room. He sat down on a chair, as carefully as the boy had done earlier and I understood that it was intentional. This whole place was about to fall apart.

"Never mind, it's a fully different story. And in the past," he quickly added and rested his cane against the table. "Now, I wonder; what are you doing in my home?"

"He invited me" I said at the exact same moment as the boy said "I invited her". We looked at each other in surprise and an awkward silence filled the room.

"Well, what have I told you about strangers and not to invite them?"

"Nothing."

I bit my lower lip in an attempt to not laugh but I couldn't hide the smile. The boy smiled back at me but didn't say anything more.

Achilles sighed once again and closed his eyes.

"What do you want?" He asked me and frowned.

"I want the names of the men who almost killed you and me," I replied with lightning speed. "That and a ride back to Boston. You owe me that at least."

The tired old man in front of me shrugged.

"Is that all? Will you get out of here then?"

I nodded then realized that he didn't see me so I answered with a simple "yes".

"Good. Boy, take her to Boston as soon as it's morning."

"I won't stay the night here," I said angrily. "I need to get home now. And give me the names!"

A thunder shook the house with its mighty roar and I almost dropped my bag in fright. Another lightning bolt colored the sky and the thunder was deafening.

"You won't get anywhere in this weather, no matter how strong your horse is. Stay the night, it'll be alright. Boy, give her a bed that can still stand." Achilles rose then limped his way upstairs. "I won't tell you the names of those men. Revenge is never the key for solution."

And with that, the conversation was over.


	10. Chapter 2:5

**Chapter 2:5**

_1769, October 5th-October 6th_

The house was terrifying at night. I could barely see where I put my feet as I followed the Native American boy through the Davenport Homestead's main building, now and then getting minor heart attacks due to the thunder. Lightning bolts flashed over the dark sky and the heavy rain pattered against the windows.

"So you live here with Achilles?" I asked and followed him into a bedroom. It was not as dirty as the rest of the house and a lonely candle warmed the atmosphere.

"No, not really," he answered and stretched out his hand to me. "I can take your coat and belongings if you'd like to."

I shook my head and sat down on the only bed in the room.

"I'll manage," I said and took off my jacket, hanging it on headboard. "Is it here that I'll spend my night?"

The boy with the unpronounceable name nodded and scratched the back of his head. He sank down on the floor and rested his back against the white-painted wall. Our eyes locked and he shot me a crooked smile.

"You can borrow it for tonight; I'll sleep on the floor," he replied and raised his knee in level to his shoulders. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Oh my god, is this your bed?" I wondered and jumped to my feet. "I can't let you sleep on the floor in your own house!"

He waved at me to calm down.

"It's alright, I promise." The boy examined me with his dark eyes. "It's just for a night."

I sat down on the single bed again and bit my lower lip. It was kind of awkward that I would sleep in some stranger's house in the middle of nowhere – my aunt knowing nothing about it – especially in this boy's bed. I couldn't even say his name without sounding drunk.

"Eh…"

"Not sleepy?"

I pulled up the blanket towards my face and turned my face towards his voice. He had blown out the candlelight and we were alone in the darkness.

"Where does Achilles sleep?" I asked and tried to find his eyes.

"Just a couple of rooms away, down the hallway."

"Aha."

We were silent after that and all I could hear was his calm breathing; the relentless clatter of the rain had ceased as well as the loud bangs of thunder. The rhythmic sound made me doze off and before I knew it, I was asleep, dreaming about an eagle.

* * *

Morning came quicker than I had thought – I hadn't really expected me to sleep _that_ well – and I declined the morning meal; I wanted to get home as soon as possible. I harassed the old man about the names of those who had almost killed us both, but he ignored me and refused to even give me their first names. I didn't know what I would have to do – he just didn't listen to what I had to say. He just told me the same as he had yesterday: "revenge is never the key to solution". Damn him! He didn't know what I had been through! I had almost _died_! I had given up my life, my six-year old life, for that ungrateful son of a "you-know-what" and he couldn't even do this small favor for me. I was supposed to be happy that he offered me a ride home. God, he was a stubborn man!

"Help me to get up on the horse."

I felt how my cheeks reddened. I had never ridden in my whole life, not to speak about how much I disliked horses in general. They were dumb animals, only good for travelling, and they smelled like feces all the time.

"Have you never been on a _horse_?" he asked, more than just amused. "And you're a townie."

"I don't like horses," I answered and glared at him. "They smell."

"They're wonderful," he corrected and patted the brown mare's neck. "So wise and fierce."

I rolled with my eyes at him and crossed my arms.

"Are we going soon or?" I sighed. "Just help me up and let's get this done with."

The dark-skinned boy nodded and showed me how to get up using the stirrups. I got up on the first try – to my surprise – but was even more surprised when I saw him follow up and settle down behind me.

"Wha—"I started but he grabbed the reins, his hands snaking around my torso.

"Let's get going, right?"

His tone indicated that he was seemingly unaffected by our sudden intimacy and I tried to ignore it as well. My heart started to beat faster but not because of the horse's sudden movement, but of him so close to me. It was a strange feeling and I desperately pushed it out of my mind.

A couple of hours vanished in just a moment and we reached the outskirts of Boston by afternoon.

"Stop here," I commanded and he obeyed, halting the horse.

"Why here?" he asked and helped me to get down.

I grimaced when my feet touched the ground. My whole body was aching of all the horseback riding; I could barely feel my thighs and started stretching.

"I'll find the way back home myself." I stifled a yawn. "I don't want my aunt to see you; what would that poor woman think?"

He got down from the horse as well and shrugged. I watched him as he inspected the hoofs and rearranged the saddle.

"Well, just tell her the truth," he answered. "As a matter of fact, I can tell her myself."

I shook my head.

"You don't know my aunt," I said and couldn't help but smiling. "She's _crazy_, I tell you. I once saw her throw out a fully grown man from our apartment."

He lighted up when he saw my smile and I hurriedly erased it from my face. _Don't let him get to you_.

"So I guess this is farewell?" I wondered and realized that I sounded too soft – like I wanted to meet him again. "Goodbye, then."

I turned around and started to walk away as fast as I could but a hand soon grabbed me by my shoulder. He spun me around and I frowned.

"I just want to ask…"

I straightened and met his hazelnut-colored eyes.

"What?"

He smiled crookedly and politely replied:

"You never told me your name. I thought a well-educated girl like you would know some manners at least."

I opened my mouth but then shut it again. The boy raised his right eyebrow in a challenging gesture and I snorted. _What a guy._

"Melissa Rawling," I answered and shook his hand. "A pleasure to meet you Raght-také-non."

Then I left.


	11. Chapter 3:1

**Chapter 3:1**

_1770, March 1st_

It wasn't until March next year I met Haytham Kenway again. He was back from whatever mission he had conducted and seemed in good spirits. The weather was unusually cold and the snow had not yet melted away. I was alone, waiting at the harbor for his ship to arrive. Alex wasn't with me; he had moved to New York for the moment while things were so turbulent in Boston. We exchanged letters but rarely met. It didn't bother me that much as I was mostly busy searching for the men who had almost killed me. It hadn't taken me especially far though, and was nowadays just a trifle. Of course did I miss him but we were still in the awkward situation where neither of us wanted to back down. He was determined that my way of thinking was wrong – by me wanting to wipe their faces off the world – and I thought he was a wimp.

The vessel arrived at the docks a quarter over four, and I couldn't hide my excitement when I saw my teacher approaching me. I hurried to his side and gave him a polite bow. He nodded at me to rise and we continued walking towards the city.

"Any news? How fares your aunt?"

He walked so fast that I was forced to take two steps when he took one.

"No, sir, nothing new." I paused. "And Auntie is alright, just struggling a bit with the rent; she got fired last weekend and have been searching for a new job ever since."

We passed a group of men and they shot venomous glares after us. He wrinkled his forehead and I quickly explained to him.

"People are so angry these days," I said and kept my voice low. I didn't want them to hear my accent nor what I said. "The Crown is raising the taxes even higher since the French withdrew and it's keeping us on edge. I do agree that the laws are illegitimate since the colonies have no delegate in the British Parliament but still; a revolution might not be the best solution."

He shrugged and opened his mouth to answer when loud voices interrupted him. As the two of us emerged from the alley, we walked into _chaos_. Regulars were trying to defend the city house, as the furious crowd outside yelled indecent stuff at the soldiers. The citizens were a lot larger in number and I knew that things were getting out of control.

"I say again – disperse! Congregating in this manner is forbidden!"

A poor redcoat tried to calm them down but it was in vain.. Mr. Kenway gestured for me to wait in the alleyway and pushed his way through the angry mob, reaching the town hall in no time. He changed a couple of words with a man – perhaps in his fifties and wearing a dove blue coat – who nodded in assent. My heart went cold as I saw the stranger hurry away into the street closest, his hands gripping a rifle.

"This is madness."

"Mr. Lee," I greeted him and whipped around.

Charles Lee took a couple of steps towards me and frowned.

"It seems like someone sparked them today," he said and rubbed his chin. "Things are looking bad."

"Please, you got to stop them before the soldiers open fire. Is there no way to calm things down?"

I silently prayed that my aunt was at home now, not joining this stupid protest. What would I do if she died as well?

"I'll see what I can do, little lady," he answered and gave me a soft smile. "Don't worry, everything will be alright. Just stay here and I'll find you later."

He gently patted my head before disappearing into the alley. I turned back to the scenery in front of me and desperately searched for my aunt's distinctive red hair. It was hard to see because of the snow but after a couple of checkups I was sure that she wasn't here. The wind gained in strength as the people got angrier and one could almost touch the fiery tension.

My eyes passed over the crowd again and suddenly caught onto something dark, standing on a roof. It was the man Mr. Kenway had spoken to earlier and he was sweeping his glance over the many people as well as I was. The only difference was that he held a gun.

Time seemed to slow when I saw him readying the weapon and aiming towards the protesting citizens. I wanted to yell at them, to warn them about the soon to be a murderer above, but my voice was hoarse and no sound came out. My hands instinctively searched for something to throw but found nothing and I felt the panic rising. I started to sprint – knocking people aside – but knew that I wouldn't reach him in time for the first shot, the decisive one. The regulars and the mob were just on the verge to explode into a riot. His action would determine the end for many.

Then I saw _him_.

He ran towards the man and cut him down, gripping him by his collar and growled something. A relief filled my body and I released my breath. _He made it, God, he made it. Now there won't be any—_

The sound of a firing gun drifted away into the relentless wind and I first thought that it had been something I imagined. Then I saw a man next to me drop to the ground, his face blown into smithereens. Sanguine liquid colored the ground and a metallic aroma filled the air, together with the smell of gunpowder. The crowd went hysterical.

"God save us all!"

"Run for your lives!"

"They're shooting at us!"

I covered my ears and tried to get out from the fleeing group of people. More and more shots were fired together with piercing shrieks of men and women dying. Someone shoved me into the ground and I got a hard kick in my stomach, thus losing my breath. The pain blinded me and I yelped.

_Help me…_

I grimaced and tried to grab someone. I felt fabric between my fingers and pulled it with all my might.

"Please, I…"

My vision returned and I saw that I was holding a dead woman's skirt. She had been shot twice, both in her shoulder and her head and the blood was emitting steam in the cold breeze. I felt how my stomach turned and I couldn't help but throwing up.

When I was done, I brushed my mouth with the back of my hand and spat out residues of my vomit. I could still hear guns blazing and orders being shouted out. It was hard to rise up but I made it to my feet – a bloody miracle, alas the irony – and looked around me.

Dead citizens, everywhere.


	12. Chapter 3:2

**Chapter 3:2**

_1773, December 16th_

I never forgot that night. The many corpses; the smell of blood mixed with dirt and snow, the dead eyes of a little boy, grabbing his mother's dress even in death. The sound of screaming people and the firing of rifles haunts me still.

But I guess it was a necessary action, even though it harmed many lives. The years continued in peace and it even made Alex's parents feel safe again, living in the streets of Boston. My aunt earned a work as a cashier in a little general store, helping a poor man by the name Benjamin Franklin. He seemed almost too worried about his almanac's pages and asked of me to keep an eye out for them. I assured him that I would, even though I knew the chances of finding his precious notes would be very slim.

For myself; well I grew a bit on the height and ran small errands for my neighbors, earning some money. I had no clue about what I would do when I was an adult but attended to the local school and tried my best with the few subjects that were offered. Alex and I were friends again and nothing clouded my mind, not even Mr. Kenway's abrupt departure from Boston. He had left me the instruction to stay close to a certain William Johnson. I still hadn't told Alex about the Templars and why I continued to meet Haytham Kenway now and then, and that kept the ice between us solid… even though there were times when we were only children again. Alex had become very interested with politics and since the times now were so grave with the raising taxes and angry citizens, he was one of the last persons I wanted to share precious information about the Templars joining the British. But I obeyed Mr. Kenway, checking William Johnson's routines and what he did, and life continued as usual – or so I thought.

The year was 1773 when I met him again. The Native boy. Or well, he wasn't a boy any longer, but I'll come to that. I was strolling down one of the larger streets in Boston, a day of December. Alex wasn't with me; he was at home, sick, and I was trying to find a bakery that sold his favorite bread.

"It's not up for discussion! Now open the door or these men will break it down!"

I suddenly heard the crack of wood breaking and turned my head to watch the spectacle. The brutal sound of knuckles hitting bones and flesh echoed into the store and I quickly ran out to see what it was about. That was when I saw him. I didn't recognize him as the boy I had met so long time ago; frankly, he looked completely different.

He had grown and stood at least six feet three, maybe four, inches above the ground while walking normally. A white hood – with what seemed like an eagle painted on it – concealed his face and hair. The long white dress uniform jacket continued down his arms and curved backwards at his shins, the fabric delicately decorated with small prints and with blue lining. He wore brown ragged leggings and boots that extended past his knees. The Native was armed with a bow and arrows, as well as a flintlock pistol in his left holster and a dagger in his right, together with a tomahawk. He was still rather slender in his body shape but I could clearly regard strong muscles under his odd clothes.

He was watching an angry man that was fighting with some soldiers and didn't seem to notice me at all. I saw him dive towards the affray, raising his weapons and killing the regulars.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I didn't realize that I had been screaming those words out loud – it had been an inner thought, I promise – but it was too late for me to pretend that someone else had been yelling at them; their eyes aimed at me and they stiffened.

Suddenly flushing with color I bit my lower lip, wishing for the thousandth time that my mouth wasn't so big.

"You can't just kill the soldiers!" I searched for a familiar face around me but found none. The people were walking straight pass the scene, ignoring the deaths of the soldiers, and some even seemed like they wanted to join the fight. "Help someone go get help!"

Nobody answered and I clenched my fists.

"You can't just let them kill good men like that!" I tried to find some support from somebody – anybody, if just a little child – but they continued on like nothing. "Good soldiers, fighting to keep you all safe. You are such cowards! They are only two!"

"Girl, they are content with this. We are angry on these tax collectors; they can all go back to Britain!"

An immediate response was followed up by the onlookers as the man starting the brawl approached me, his face and torso covered with blood. He was holding a kitchen knife in his right hand and when he saw my expression, he lowered it and put it in his pocket.

"I won't hurt you, but you must keep out of trouble like this." He had a heavy French accent and spoke so fast that it took me a second extra to process his words. Was he threatening me?

"I'll go get an officer," I warned and took a step back, my hand reaching into my backpack where I had the only weapon I had come to keep of Mr. Kenway. "You stay here and see your judgment, you murderers."

I tried not to look at him. I didn't want him to recognize me.

"Hah, do you hear this little child? So naïve."

"I'm not a kid!"

I felt the dagger slither into my hand and gripped it hard, readying myself for a fight. No way that I would let injustice like this slip past when I saw.

"Take it easy now."

His voice was soft, much softer than I had thought it would be with his appearance. I didn't look at him but kept my eyes steady on the French man.

"They were trying to take his home. He has all the right to defend it."

They were two and I was alone. I would probably not even win against one of them in a fair duel. Maybe it's better to back off… for now.

I swallowed but didn't respond. Instead, I just nodded slightly and walked away from the two, taking off into the nearest alley where I had seen a ladder the day before. I quickly climbed up – after have making sure of that nobody saw me – and hugged the tiled roof while crawling towards where I had left the two men. My plan was that I would stalk them to see where they went off, but by the time I had found a good spot, the French had already disappeared and the boy – well, man – with the unpronounceable name hurried away into another street.

After much profanity and reckless climbing, I found my way to him and his goal; a large tavern with darkened windows and an empty stable outside. I slid down the house and hid behind some crates while I followed him with my gaze. That was when I saw it – the insignia of the Assassins. It was fastening the red sash around his waist. How didn't I see it earlier?

My breath caught in my throat. The Assassins. He's an assassin, one of them; a member of the brotherhood, a servant to their cause. He really is a true, cold-blooded murderer. I bit my lower lip and forced myself to stay calm.

He knocked on the door and while he waited for someone to answer, he took the moment to look around. I didn't have the time to dodge away and our eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. I almost lost my self-control but didn't move. Murderer.

"Connor? Welcome."

He continued staring at me for a moment but then turned around, greeting a man with brown hair and potato-nose. They exchanged some quick words before vanishing into the dark of the building.

Connor… so that's your name…


	13. Chapter 3:3

**Chapter 3:3**

_1773, December 16th_

I made sure that nobody would see me before I slipped over the street and into the backyard of the inn. Garbage were piled everywhere and it reeked of more than a week old fish. I tried to hold my breath – until my eyes stopped filling with tears due to the awful smell – and sneaked by a sleeping beggar, careful not to touch anything around the decay that was spreading from the trashcans.

"The collectors grow bolder, and more forceful. Something we must address, Samuel."

"Then let us raise our banner, something to let the people know that they are not alone. The docks are an angry place of late; protestors picketing the shipments of British tea. The eyes of the city are upon that stage."

I crouched down and put my hands as support onto the brick wall. Just a couple of feet in front of me I saw a window slightly ajar and approached it. I heard the French man from earlier and quickly dealt with the information. The two voices from earlier had been completely of strangers and Connor hadn't spoken yet.

_Maybe I took wrong, _I thought and clenched my teeth. _Is he maybe in the building next to me? And if not; what are they planning?_

"William Johnson is smuggling the tea off the ships." I heard the soft sound of a pouch being put on a wooden surface. "One of his men tried to sell me _this_. A sample of what I refused. But it's from those ships, no mistaking the stamp. He's charging a king's ransom; must be he's making a mint of those who buy it."

I gasped. _William Johnson. He's the man I am ordered to watch. But doesn't he work together with Mr. Kenway?_

"Where is he now?"

_Connor_. I immediately recognized his dark, gentle voice.

"I've never met the man," admitted he who had spoken before Connor.

"May I ask why you seek him, Connor?"

_Exactly what I was thinking,_ I stated quietly for myself and took the chance to peek in. I saw two men sitting on barstools with their backs against me and the French on the counter behind. The… _assassin_ stood up, his face stern but neutral.

"He intends to purchase the land upon which my village stands, _without_ the consent of my people."

_His people? Is that an excuse for killing soldiers?_

"No doubt the revenue from his little smuggling endeavors, financing the acquisition." The man I guessed was Samuel – also the man that had invited Connor, he with the potato-nose – paused before continuing. "Attacks and forced on tea grants a boon to smugglers. All way to the same men who levy the taxes are selling the tea. A stage requires a spectacle and I may know the play."

I didn't hear anything more. My legs were already sprinting off the ground and I ignored the yells and admonitions that were thrown at me. _I have to tell Mr. Johnson. They're going to destroy the tea._

In my rampage, I asked a passing lady what the time was and she told me it was close to eight on the afternoon. The winter was much colder than it used to be – though there was no snow – but my running kept me warm. At this time, Mr. Johnson usually took his strode around Boston. It would be practically impossible to know exactly where to look but I decided to backtrack from what I knew would be the final destination – the harbor.

It took me perhaps about an hour and a half to find my way through the streets while I searched for the face of William Johnson, before I forfeited and decided to check the docks. Important things were at risk; if what those men said would be taken into action, they would attack the shipments of tea and lose Mr. Johnson a fortune. It wasn't like I cared about the man – I didn't even know him in personal aspects – but my orders were clear. I would look out for him as it was in Haytham Kenway's best interest.

A storm rumbled in the distance and dark clouds gathered over the sky; to my pleasure as rain was my favorite type of weather. But the sound of an aroused crowd stole my attention and my gaze was aimed forward. As I reached my goal, I was surprised by men fighting on the two sailing ships that were at port. The large number of people around the scene were cheering and whistling loudly, pointing and yelling at the view, clearly enjoying what they were watching. From where I stood, I barely saw anything and pushed my way forward to the frontline. I could see regulars trying to breach into the vessels where the violators were throwing boxes filled with tea into the dark water beneath. The soldiers were clearly at a number advantage but their attempts were brutally quenched due to a white-hooded man.

He moved faster than I thought could be possible, his hands being well-used to gripping weapons and ending lives with them. Now and then a redcoat was lucky enough to get the assassin on fair terms, but the latter easily blocked and countered every hit, his lithe body moving almost like water as he spun around and kicked the man overboard.

_So this is a true assassin… he's so powerful; what a terrifying opponent_. _Nobody has even managed to get a hit onto him._

I watched in awe as the rest of the men and women around me were, my eyes widened in shock and reverence. _How can he move so damn _fast_? Was his mother a cheetah?_

The fight ended with the assassin being the winner of them all and the rioters on the ships hoorayed together with their audience. Samuel, the French man and a third who I didn't recognize, ventured out of the ship receiving all the praise with smiles. They gave a crate to Connor – the last box of tea I assumed – and he cockily held it up in the air, the people around me screaming in response. His eyes glimmered under the hood and I noticed how they locked with someone in front of him. I couldn't see due to the massive crowd but the tension was strong even at my distance.

The assassin then dropped the box into the sea and the Boston Tea Party ended.


	14. Chapter 3:4

**Chapter 3:4**

_1773, December 29th/1774, June 18th_

"Who is this man?"

I was silently watching them talk. A dark hood was covering my face and the obscurely lit room hid the rest of my body shape.

"I thought we had eradicated each and every one of them. Didn't the Templars make sure of learning Davenport a lesson?"

The men in front of me were in all seriousness, comfortably dressed and held a keg of the Green Dragon Tavern's best mead – all of them except Haytham. When I had asked Mr. Kenway why he didn't enjoy the qualities that an adult life provided him with, he had simply shrugged and answered that life was better without alcohol.

"I am sure that the information I received nine years ago was accurate; Reginald wouldn't lie about something like that," answered my teacher and rubbed his chin. "Achilles must've ignored the kindness we showed him that day and decided to choose a new disciple. This is very troublesome news, gentlemen."

I snuggled up into the chair and sipped my dark tea. The snow had taken Boston with surprise – me as well, frankly – and I had gotten a cold due to my unbearable habit of going around without a jacket. A pair of eyes studied me and I looked up into Charles Lee's kind countenance.

"Is the tea bearable?" he asked with a low voice, trying not to interrupt the angry voice of Mr. Johnson's. "I think I tried it out once… but after that, I lost the ability to taste food for _weeks_."

I smiled widely and drank the hot liquid again.

"It seems like sir have no guts," I answered with a mocking smile. "The tea is not the best I agree, but drinkable, yes."

He huffed at me but didn't have the time to reply when William Johnson cut in.

"It would be delicious would that had been _my_ tea," he said with a bitter tone. "The tea that is now on the bottom of the ocean thanks to that damned Mohawk!"

"Calm down, William, your time will come again."

I watched Mr. Kenway wink at someone at the back of the room and a seemingly innocent barmaid put a small chest on the worn out table. It probably was as large as one of the crates of tea that was thrown into the sea a couple of weeks ago.

_Connor… _I clenched the warm cup. _Who are you exactly? And why do you do these evil deeds? Why are you an assassin?_

"…impossible. I can't… I can't, Haytham, take it back."

"Is this what you need to buy the Iroquois' land?" asked Mr. Kenway nonchalantly. "It's nothing, really. Just take it even if it's too much."

I followed the movement of the heavy chest with my eyes and guessed it to be a lot more than William Johnson really needed. The greediness in his eyes scared me but a reassuring pat from my side made me relax.

"He's been much loyal to our cause for a long time now," whispered Mr. Lee calmative. "He wouldn't use the money to stir up ruckus or cause us any trouble, I promise."

I didn't answer him but finished the last of my beverage.

"So what's the next step of the plan?" I wondered carefully, not sure if they would tell me or not. They never usually invited me to their meetings, so it had been somewhat of a surprise that Mr. Kenway wanted me to join today.

"Well, now since I have the money, I'll ride as soon as dawn breaks through—"

"No," interrupted Mr. Kenway and intertwined his fingers. "We'll have to wait this out for a while; I suggest six months."

"Why?" I couldn't stop my question from blurting out. "Why not as soon as possible?"

He looked at me in surprise but didn't seem irritated as he answered:

"I don't want to raise any suspicions. How will William answer if they're wondering how he got so rich under the period of two weeks, especially on this time of the year? Nothing will sound true and I don't want to give them another reason to decline his offer." Our eyes connected and I couldn't but think how similar his were to another person I had met. "A fight where we take their holy lands with force is _not_ what I'm aiming for, Melissa."

I nodded in silence and soon after, it was decided that we all would wait and bide our time with strengthening the Templars grasp of Boston and New York. Six months sounded like an eternity but passed faster than I could ever imagine. My fourteenth birthday seemed to be waiting just around the corner as I got the message I had been waiting for all this time.

"…on a trip for two days into the land of the Iroquois. Two days?!"

I put a hand on my aunt's shoulder and smiled at her.

"Come on!" I begged. "I promise that I won't let the wolves eat me!"

"_Wolves_?"

"I was kidding," I hurriedly said even though I knew it was a lie. Of course there were wolves. It was a damn forest.

"Can't you take Alex with you?" she wondered and frowned. "I always feel that you're safe with him."

I sighed and took my bag from her, tucking down the letter all the while.

"It's only because Alex never does anything 'wrong'," I answered as I grabbed an apple resting on the kitchen counter. _The trip will be long... fortunately I packed down my notebook._

"Well, nowadays he seems to be aiming for being a politician… he shouldn't be a part of that rubbish," my aunt said and sighed as well. "Boy has such a brilliant mind; he shouldn't waste it on something as useless as trying to change the taxes. He would be a great doctor, I reckon."

_Doktor? She must've taken a sip of the strong today_, I thought as I quickly put on my shoes, ignoring my jacket as I always did, no matter the time of the year. "I'll be going now, Auntie! Take care and don't open for strangers!"

She didn't have time to answer before I ran down the stairs and to the street outside. A short, bald man was waiting for me and he helped me up into the wagon, after I had shown him the letter Mr. Kenway had written for me. We took off as soon as my aunt stopped scolding and threatening the poor man and I reached my goal in time for tea.

"Miss Rawling, wonderful as usual," Mr. Johnson greeted me and he seemed genuinely happy for the day. "It's time to finally claim these lands as the Templars'; and not a single drop of blood was spilled!"

I couldn't help but smiling at his excitement; if I was to be honest, I never really liked William Johnson. He was greedy and much self-important, almost narcissistic in his behavior towards his subordinates. I didn't like his own private mansion here either and had heard rumor about him building it with the use of slaves.

"I surely agree with you, sir, I hope everything will go as planned," I answered and followed him to the Johnson Hall. As I looked about my surroundings, I saw a troublesome amount of soldiers and decided to ask him why he had taken that unnecessary precaution.

"Oh, these?" He chuckled but it sounded false in my ears. "They're always here and the mercenaries were on a passing foot here so I invited them to my home."

I chose not to reply as I knew that Mr. Johnson hardly was a man who invited strangers into his house. _This doesn't seem right… if he now has the negotiation as in hand, why does he have so many soldiers here? It doesn't fit in._

"…tired. Do you perhaps want anything to dine?"

I realized just now how hungry I was nodded.

"Wonderful, I'll ask the chef to prepare something quick; the Iroquois are appointed to be here in a couple of hours, if not less. A housekeeper will show you to your room and feel free to ask if you need anything."

I nodded again and started to enter the great building when Mr. Johnson cleared his throat.

"Did I miss anything?" I asked politely. Even though I personally didn't like him, it was no reason to treat him without respect.

"No, it's just that…" He hesitated for a second before continuing. "Did perhaps Haytham say why he sent you here?"

_So that is why you're so nervous,_ I thought and hid my smile with a yawn. "No, I daresay he just wanted me here to watch over you." I paused, trying to read his expression. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Johnson?"

His face turned ashen and he quickly turned around.

"No, certainly not," he answered. "I'll pay for your ride. Now, now, go in and eat something!"

I was received by a servant and she led me up the staircase into a small but spacious room. After thanking her, I started to dig up my belongings and sank down on the only bed in the room. A dream had been haunting me with an annoying persistence, always showing me the same thing: a grey wolf with yellow eyes, leading me through a burning forest. Whenever I stopped or tried to run away, I would wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to fall asleep again. It wasn't the fire that was scaring me; it was the lone wolf. I didn't know why, but I had a feeling that if I followed the beast to where it wanted me to go, I would never be able to turn back again. It wanted to tell me something, something of utter importance, but I didn't want to hear.

"Did Miss want anything to eat?"

Her voice surprised me and it took me a second extra to collect myself.

"Eh, some bread and soup will be alright," I replied and opened my journal. "Some water as well, please."

"Certainly, Miss."

I heard her footsteps disappearing down the hall and sighed. _Why did you send me here, Mr. Kenway? What am I supposed to do, just eat and sleep during these two days?_

Time quickly passed and I finished my meal while scribbling down the events of the day. Before I knew it, Mr. Johnson knocked on my door and asked me to come outside with him. The Natives were here and he was about to meet them and finish the negotiation.

We walked down in silence and I could see how worried the man next to me was. _Seems that not everything is right with Mr. Johnson_, I thought as we exited the house. _Is this why I was sent here?_

The Mohawk men were many, but unarmed and not even close to the number of soldiers. They were dressed in the simplest of clothes and I realized that if a fight would break out, they would stand no chance. When they saw us – or rather, Mr. Johnson – they quickly raised their voices.

"Peace, peace," Mr. Johnson interrupted and gestured calmingly with his hands. "Have I not always been an adequate? Have I not always sought to protect you from harm?"

A bald, old man immediately spoke back to him, his eyes locked on Mr. Johnson.

"If you wish to protect us, then give us arms, muskets and horses that we might defend ourselves."

"War is not the answer," replied Mr. Johnson, his eyes flashing to mine. I saw that my earlier perception had been accurate; he had not been able to convince the Iroquois to sell their lands.

The same aged Native that had spoken now rose and his expression was furious.

"We remember Stanwix." He rose up and approached Mr. Johnson with a threatening posture. "We remember you moved the borders; even today your men dig up the land, showing no regard to those who live upon it. Your words are honey but false."

I gripped my dagger, ready to defend Mr. Johnson if the Native would become violent.

"We are not here to negotiate, or to sell. We are here to tell you and yours to leave these lands."

I looked at Mr. Johnson and his countenance was calm but determined.

"So be it. I offered you an olive branch, and you knocked it from my hand." He gestured for me to back off and a solder took my place. "Perhaps you'll respond better to the sword."

The Iroquois rose one by one and a black-haired man stared at first me, then Mr. Johnson.

"Are you threatening us?"

I could almost touch the tension building up into Mr. Johnson's answer and the soldier pointed his rifle towards the man.

"Yes."

And the trigger was pulled.


	15. Chapter 3:5

**A/N:**

**(So, just a quick little note here, I don't wanna keep you from the chapter! ^-^)**

**I wanna thank everyone who reads and favs, follows or reviews this story; it really means a lot to me and I adore all of my readers. We are all talented writers, just different readers. I really appreciate your feedback and criticism and I listen to every thing you guys say ^-^ if it weren't for you, I wouldn't continue to write this story. As long as your reading and enjoying what I'm writing - even if it's just one person - I'll continue for you and be as happy as I would be with hundreds of followers. Cuz what are we, if not readers? And what are writers without readers? Now I got long and boring again -_- sorry xD but it makes me so happy when I check my mail and see that I've gotten response on what I've written ^-^'**

* * *

**Chapter 3:5**

_1774, June 18th_

I watched in horror as the Native American was shot. His angry expression turned blank in an instant as he slumped down on the bloodstained ground.

"Now, who's next?" wondered Mr. Johnson, eyeing his observers. "I assure you that I'm doing this for your own protection. Allow me to buy your land."

"No," spoke the black-haired man once again and gritted his teeth as he continued. "Get lost from our lands and stay lost!"

Another blast of a rifle being fired echoed away into the distance. I couldn't hide my gasp as Mr. Johnson's next victim hit the dirt. He quickly turned to me, a flash of irritation consuming his countenance, before he collected himself and cleared his throat.

"Anyone else got an objection?"

The remaining Iroquois were silent and stared at each other, their eyes revealing the fear they had fought not to show. I clenched my fists and looked away from the two dead bodies. _This is not a negotiation; this is murder, cold-blooded murder. _The thought immediately made me think of someone I desperately was trying to forget, and it made me wonder: _are the Templars really any different from the Assassins?_

"You…" I didn't know that I was speaking until it was too late. "Y-you killed them. _Why_?"

Mr. Johnson spun around and he seemed to be as shocked and aggravated as I was.

"I had to," he muttered and hurried inside the Johnson Hall, his cape whipping after him. "You have an hour to discuss this issue; I am an honorable man and as such, I will show mercy and let you have a second chance."

He gestured for me to follow and I quickly obeyed.

"Sir, you didn't have to shoot anyone!" I exclaimed as we entered something that seemed to be his study. Tall bookshelves were filled with notes and books, and two large windows overlooked the backyard of the mansion. "They would've listened, had you just given them some time to hear you out—"

Mr. Johnson sat down in the large chair behind a black table, pulling out a bottle of Scottish whiskey and two glasses. His blue eyes inspected me quickly before putting back one of the drinks and pouring the other to the brim with amber-colored liquid.

"I had no choice," he answered, his voice tired and exhausted. "I've tried and tried for such a long time but those wildlings won't listen. They're much too proud to even _think_ about giving up their homes." He gulped the whole amount at once and again filled an empty glass.

I was furious at him and his words but as I opened my mouth to answer, someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Mr. Johnson asked but there was no reply. He repeated himself but whoever the person was, he or she kept quiet.

I approached the door and opened it. My heart almost stopped as I realized who the white-hooded man was and it did stop for at least a moment, when my eyes traced down his bloodied dress uniform jacket, down to the flintlock pistol in his hand. The world seemed to slow into bits and pieces as the assassin raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

The bullet buried itself into Mr. Johnson's ribcage and blood splattered out of his chest. His head hit the backrest of the chair and his eyes flew wide open in pure surprise. He groaned in excruciating pain and clutched the edge of the table.

"Get out of here."

I was staring at the dying Mr. Johnson and my mind didn't catch what he said.

"You have nothing to do with this," continued the man behind me and his gentle voice seemed completely out of place. "Let me finish what I came for without any onlookers."

I slowly turned around and reached for the dagger I had in my back pocket.

"Get away from him!" I growled and pulled forth my blade. "Soldiers! Guards!"

"I've already dealt with them all," he answered, almost amused at my vain attempt. "All I want is to talk with him. Your father is already virtually dead; nothing you say or do can save him. So step aside now."

_He doesn't know who I am and thinks I'm Mr. Johnson's child, _I thought and finally allowed myself to meet his gaze. _I want to see how the face of a true murderer is, so that I can recognize him. Maybe he lives no longer with Achilles – maybe he has a house in Boston or New York – but either way, I will find him and put an end to this killing._

His eyes were the same of the boy I had met years ago; same brown, hazelnut-colored eyes but now with a definiteness that almost scared me. A small scar marked his right cheek but was almost unnoticeable due to his dark skin. His large, slightly crooked nose gave definition to his features, making him look harsher, together with his well-shaped bone structure. He had a completely different expression in his face now, compared to what I could recall from when I had first met him and seemed twice his age, with his determined countenance and grave eyes. _Was this really the boy that lent me his bed while he slept on the floor?_

I clutched my dagger even harder and bit my lower lip. _Can he identify who I am? Or does he not remember?_ I swallowed and tried to find any physical weaknesses or a wound I could exploit… but to no avail. He was as good as untouched. _Even if he is stronger and has way more experience, I won't just let him pass without a fight_.

A spark of recognizance lighted his dark eyes as he finished his own analyze of me.

"You're…" He paused and tried to find the right words. "You're that foolish girl who tried to get the old man to talk!"

He mentioned nothing of when I had confronted him and the French man, half a year ago, and I sighed in relief. _Good, then he knows nothing of me, nor can he guess why I'm here other than being Mr. Johnson's daughter._

"You killed my pa, you murderer!" I yelled.

My first strike was a feint, which caught him off guard and made me get one lucky hit onto his stomach, though with the blunt edge of my dagger. He quickly regained his balance and gripped my hands.

"I'm not going to fight a child," he said calmingly and pried my hand open. "Now calm down and stop fighting; you stand no chance."

The assassin easily unarmed me and gripped my arms with just one of his. He then pushed me into the wall and dug the knife into my collar, rendering me immobile. I attempted to get a good hit on him but he quickly recoiled and approached the man he had shot.

"Let me go!" I screamed and tried to pull out the dagger from the wall, but it was like rooted. "You can't just go around and kill people!"

He ignored me and quietly spoke to Mr. Johnson. If I would've been quiet I might have had a chance to overhear anything but I was too furious even to think. I was angry at Mr. Johnson for having killed the Iroquois, I was angry at the assassin to have killed the soldiers and now Mr. Johnson as well, but I was most of all angry at myself. I was disappointed and utterly humiliated due to the assassin's capability of handling me with such ease. I had spent three years of hard, tough training and still I stood no chance to the man standing in front of me. I had gotten one hit; one terribly bad hit and had been maneuvered like a little doll. Tears trickled down my cheeks, tears of abasement and fury.

"Connor, let me _go_!"

His eyes immediately locked with mine but he didn't have the time to answer before a flurry of angry voices filled the large building. He vaulted over the table and opened a window. Our eyes met one last time before he disappeared away from my view.


	16. Chapter 4:1

**Chapter 4:1**

_1774, June 19th_

"This is horrendous."

I looked at Mr. Charles Lee in surprise as I finished the rest of my meal.

"Master Kenway, something must be done!" he exclaimed and slammed his fist into the table. "That assassin is clearly targeting us, one by one. Who's next in line?"

My teacher gestured at Mr. Lee to calm down.

"Charles, there is nothing to worry about," he said reassuringly. "Even if he is an assassin he can't be especially experienced. If he tries anything direct towards me, I will make sure that it's the last thing he'll ever do."

"But sir, what makes you so certain that he's a beginner?" I asked and unbuttoned my shirt, just enough to show him the bandage around my shoulder where the knife had dug in. "He could've killed me but he didn't. Everything happened faster than I could ever imagine and still he was so accurate that I never even realized at the time how close to death I was."

A patrolling troop of Regulars had seen the dead bodies of other soldiers and hurried inside to my aid. It had been difficult for even the largest of the men to pull out the knife from the wall but when he finally succeeded, an agonizing pain had shot through my body and I cried out in pain. The dagger had cut open my flesh and blood poured out in a rich amount. I had lost consciousness in a couple of seconds and when I woke up I was back in Boston, staring right into Auntie's worried expression. After a lot of arguing – I had of course been grounded – my aunt left for her job, leaving me alone, and now I was at the Green Dragon Tavern, reporting everything that had happened to Mr. Haytham Kenway and Mr. Charles Lee.

"Exactly, but he never did kill you right?" Mr. Kenway leaned back towards his seat and gave me an inquired look. "It was a moment of hesitation, doubt; a mistake that he will pay for later on with the life of his own. Never think about, Melissa. If someone stands between you and your goal, get the person out of the way."

I nodded silently and adjusted my shirt. _The way of the Templars._

"So… We won't do anything to stop this madman until it's too late?"

Mr. Kenway sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Charles, don't speak of such," he answered his friend. "Instead I want you to continue striving for Washington's role. That man is starting to become a symbol for the rebels. Send a letter to John: George Washington must die."

"I can just ride and meet him myself, sir," he replied and looked confused. "It will be must safer as such and John trusts me."

My teacher shook his head and looked at me.

"I want _you_ to deliver it."

I raised my eyebrows and both Mr. Charles and I started to protest. We were silenced with nothing but another glance from Mr. Kenway.

"No objections. I want you to do this alone as well."

"Sir!" I and Mr. Lee spoke at the same time again. I bit back the rest of what I had to say but he didn't.

"Master Kenway, you can't just send her away," he said and frowned. "She's barely fifteen! What will she do if attacked by brigands? Wild animals? Sir, at least let me accompany her."

Mr. Kenway shook his head again and pulled out a letter from his chest pocket, handing it to me. His eyes were slightly amused at Mr. Charles's sudden outburst, but grave. He really was serious about forcing me to be his messenger.

"No, you will travel to Philadelphia. Stay put until I send for you again," he answered and waited for me to take the envelope away from him before continuing to speak. "Miss Rawling will have another escort. I hope that your friend can ride a horse?"

My chin dropped.

"_Alex_?" I wondered, not completely sure if I had heard him right. "You mean my friend Alex right?"

"Yes, that boy," he replied and nodded. "You will for sure feel safer with him and it's not often that I see the two of you together. Has something happened?"

_Why does he want Alex to come with me? He has never been fond of him before but now…_ I cleared my throat. "He's been busy in New York, sir. Both of his parents decided to move there and he very much likes the city. We send letters to each other but that's about it."

"Then isn't this a wonderful opportunity to meet up again and see ones best friend?"

I bit my lower lip and looked down. _Best friend._

"I…" I paused. "I-I don't know, sir, if we are what we used to be."

"I see," Mr. Kenway said and shrugged. "But I don't think it will be of a problem. Just ask him and let's continue from there."

"Yes, sir."

I hurried home and quickly started to write a note. If I was lucky, I would be able to find a traveler or a sailor who could give it to him this week at least. It was actually his "turn" to send me a letter but it wasn't like this was just an ordinary update about how life in Boston was. I scribbled down what had happened in the Johnson Hall and also about the assassin; maybe had he seen Connor in New York.

"… and I wish of you to accompany me on this journey. It would be a nice opportunity for us to meet as well and spend time together – yours sincerely, Melissa." I clenched my jaws. _Alex… What are we? Friends or acquaintances? So much has changed and I barely recognize you in your letters anymore. I know that you are a good person – the best I daresay – but why do you have to do this?_

I went outside and headed towards the docks. There was a captain there who traded expensive wine between Boston and New York, and he was my usual mailbox since he knew Alex personally and owed me a favor or two. It took me a while before finding him and when I did he was very drunk.

"Hey," I greeted and gave him the envelope with Alex's letter. "Could you give this to Alex as soon as possible? It's very urgent… and tell him that I miss him."

He gave me a grin and patted me on the head.

"Aye." I grimaced at his breath and recoiled. "Don't worry honey; I'll get this to him."

_Don't hit him, don't hit him. He's surely a good man… somewhere deep inside where only a dagger can reach._ I smiled thankfully at him and turned around to quickly walk away, when I remembered what Alex had mentioned in his last letter.

"Oh yes, Alex said that it should be addressed to the secret headquarters of the Sons of Liberty." The captain looked astonished at me but I just gave him a polite smile. "He said you would know where it was. Give it to him, please."

Then I ran back all the way to my aunt's apartment, worried if she would maybe come home earlier and find me gone. All the while, I thought if it was right of me to lie about Alex's "job" to Mr. Kenway. My teacher thought he continued his parent's profession but anyone who knew Alex even the slightest would immediately realize how bad it would fit him. It had been a secret between him and me, a secret that I intended to keep.

Alex was a revolutionary.


	17. Chapter 4:2

**Chapter 4:2**

_1774, August 5th/1775, April 17th_

Alex didn't reply in at least two months from when I sent him my letter and the little scrap of muddied paper I received from the messenger, was almost as good as nothing.

_Can't explain much but I thank you for your letter, it will come much in handy. I'm sorry that I haven't updated you in a while but things are getting heated up in New York. I guess we have rounded up about two thirds of all the good men here and we're continuing to recruit in all the cities. The French gave us their support but we have officially not yet gotten any help. In secret, they're freezing their business with the Brits and supplying us with food and arms. Again I thank you for your letter; if I'm to be honest, I never thought you would do such a thing for us. And to answer your question: yes, I'd very much like to accompany you. We haven't met in a while and it would be great to see you again. But things are much hectic for the moment and I fear that I cannot meet you in at least six months since I've been assigned into a higher rank here at the city hall and am unable to leave this position. I'm also sorry for being so busy nowadays that I can't even write you a letter, but I've been followed twice now when I tried to send you my answer and I guess it'll be hard in the future as well._

_Yours sincerely – Alex_

I immediately sent him another letter, confused by some parts of his note. What was it that I had written that seemed to be beneficial to him? As far as I knew, I had written about how I missed him and that I wanted to see him again, together with the opportunity to spend some time with me. I knew that he was busy fighting and gathering men for an army worthy enough to stand against the British troops, but I also knew that he was starting to grow as a political figure. It was not only his friendliness that attracted the attention of both men and women, but his honesty and genuine devotion to the cause for the greater good. Alex was loyal and an excellent talker, but no soldier. He was a true politician and he had the support of many. But deep inside I felt like he was wrong. War or revolution would never be the solution of any problem.

I searched for Mr. Kenway to inform him of these new circumstances and told him that Alex would accompany me but that he was unavailable presently due to his sick parents and that he was forced to handle the store on his own. My teacher brought me with news of his own, that Mr. Pitcairn had travelled back to England for private business and would not come back until April next year. As I asked Mr. Kenway why he hadn't told me this earlier – Mr. Pitcairn must have used a ship and the best vessels were to be found in Boston or New York – since I could've found him and given him the letter. The answer was simple: Mr. Pitcairn had not informed anyone about his sudden departure leaving us all with questions. But I was pleased with the disappearance of Mr. Pitcairn since it was good for Alex. Eight months would surely suffice for him to get a good foundation as a "real" politician in New York as well as open up a window for another excuse if that would be needed.

The months flew by faster than I realized and I celebrated my birthday without Alex, for the first time since we became friends. Autumn was cold and rainy – exactly how I wanted it to be – and winter was harsh and relentless, but the spring was much warmer than it had been in years. I took it as a good sign when I awaited Alex at the harbor, late evening, April 17th 1775. It had been at least a year since we met and through our letters, I had slowly begun to realize how much my friend had changed.

"Mel!"

I saw him running towards me with a wide grin. He had grown much longer than I remembered him and was perhaps about six feet tall, with a lean and somewhat muscular body.

"Have you been working out?" I asked teasingly and punched his arm. He performed a grimace of pain and pretended to be fatally damaged.

"For a girl, you really know how to hit someone," he replied then dropped the act, smiling again. "But as mentioned: as a _girl_—"

I hit him again and rolled with my eyes as he grimaced with real pain.

"You wimp."

"You barbarian."

We stared at each other but soon burst out in laughter. I closed in on the steps between us and gave him a big hug.

"God, you should know how much I've missed you," I mumbled and tried to keep myself from crying like a fool. "I shouldn't let you leave me again, idiot."

He chuckled and embraced me as well.

"I'm sorry," he replied and then backed off. "What's with you all of a sudden? Getting a heart, Rawling?"

"You wish."

Alex smiled and patted me on the head.

"What are you doing? Hey!"

"I've always wanted to do this on you, you crazy roof-climber. Your aunt is way too liberal with rules," he answered and I gave him another punch. "Ouch!"

"Keep your feet on the ground," I said and crossed my arms. "Just because you're starting to become a celebrity doesn't mean that you can do whatever you want."

"I'm much aware of that, thank you Miss Rawling."

"You said something? Oh, do you want me to strike you again?"

"Mercy! Have at mercy!"

I shook my head and sighed but he just laughed at me, sending me into giggles as well. He was just so happy and I couldn't believe that I had been able to make time pass without him. Alex always made me smile, even though if I was at my worst. It was amazing that I could say that he was my best friend and I would never replace him, not for all the gold and ships in the whole world. Not even for the Templars or my master, Mr. Haytham Kenway.

We visited a nearby tavern to dine and filled in the other on details. A couple of suspicious eyes were thrown at us as we went to sit at an empty table, but my well-filled purse silenced them.

Alex's parents had divorced and his mother had moved back to Boston with another man. This was good news for me since Alex would be able to stay here whenever he wanted to and for unlimited of time, but I did of course feel bad for my friend's sake. He didn't seem so upset about it, surprisingly enough, and with another beer running down his throat, he told me that both of them had been cheating on each other and continued on with new partners. I on the other hand, told him about the mysterious assassin – Connor, though I didn't say his name – and Alex agreed that the man was either crazy or desperate. I did not tell him about what Mr. Kenway had planned for George Washington and neither did he tell me any details about the rebels. He knew that I didn't agree with what he was doing and whenever we would discuss it, we would argue and get angry.

"So when are we off to…?" He paused and finished his drink. "Where are we going, by the way?"

I rested against the backseat and crossed my legs.

"Lexington," I replied. "Mr. Pitcairn will be waiting for us there."

Alex put down his keg and yawned

"I'm so tired. Can't we go tomorrow?"

I shook my head and rose from the chair, gesturing for him to follow.

"Nope," I said and we exited the tavern, much to Alex's disapproval. "I've already paid for borrowing two horses starting this day." _Or well, Mr. Kenway paid._

"Alright."

I led the way to the stables and met with the owner. After exchanging some pleasantries, me and Alex got our horses and hurried away towards Lexington. The night quickly approached and my eyelids grew heavy, but I urged us into an even faster pace. We rode in silence but that didn't bother me at all, since I had a moment to think. _Why had Mr. Kenway wanted me to bring Alex? He seemed very urgent about the matter and quite frankly, he's not a man who shows random acts of kindness… There must've been more to the table, something he chose not to tell me. But what could that be?_

We reached our goal by midnight and I decided that it was too late to search for Mr. Pitcairn. Alex found a seemingly good inn and we rented room for the night, as well as a place for our horses.

"It's so empty here."

I nodded and sank down on the bed.

"It must be the rebellion," I answered and looked around. "I heard that Mr. Pitcairn was sent to deal with them."

"I knew his name sounded familiar," Alex said and his tone was cold. Our eyes met and I saw how worried he was for his… comrades. "I-I… I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" I asked, concerned if he would just leave me. _Is his passion for "freedom" greater than our friendship?_

His grave expression was instantly replaced with a smug smile.

"You wonder if I'm off to my fellow rebel-friends," he replied with an edge of irony. When I didn't protest, his smile widened. "Nay, I must fulfill my certain needs."

_Aha, toilet_, I realized and blushed. "Sure then."

"Don't stay up."

I scoffed and opened my mouth to answer, when he disappeared away. My fatigue was seeping into every part of my body and I decided that it really was time to sleep. I took off my shoes and changed my clothes into something clean. As soon as I had sneaked into the bed and found a comfortable position to lie in, I realized how thirsty I was and decided to search Alex's backpack. It would be just like him to carry some water with him. But when I scavenged his bag, aiming to find a hipflask, I found an envelope that looked awfully alike the letter addressed to Mr. Pitcairn. Only, that letter was supposed to be in _my_ backpack and unopened.

"What are you doing?"

I couldn't stop myself from screaming in pure fright.

"Why do you sneak up on someone like that?" I yelled and felt my cheeks heating. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I just came back…" His eyes traced down my body and locked on the note I was holding in my right hand. "What's that you have there?"

"Nothing," I answered quickly and shoved it down my back pocket. "Just some trash, I found it on the floor—"

"Let me see it."

I shook my head and yawned, stretching my arms towards the ceiling.

"It's fine, it had nothing on it," I said with the most bored voice I could muster. "Alex, it's just an ordinary piece of paper."

"Still, let me check it out," he said and approached me. "Maybe it's mine."

"I doubt that."

He smiled and took another step, gesturing me to hand it over.

"Come one, I just want to see it. One quick glance."

"No, Alex, it's alright. I may be stupider than you but I have mastered the art of reading."

"I'm more worried about your sight, Rawling."

I glared at him and backed until I met the cold of the wall. _Let's see if he can take it away from me now._

"Melissa, show me."

"Alex, don't be such a pervert."

He sighed and rolled with his eyes but waited another moment for me to regret my decision. I stayed still and he sighed again.

"I guess I'll have to do this the hard way," he said and smiled wickedly.

"Har—"

Alex closed the distance between us, faster than I could react, and placed his mouth onto mine.


	18. Chapter 4:3

**Chapter 4:3**

_1775, April 17th_

For a moment I couldn't think. I couldn't see. I couldn't feel or smell. Each and every one of my senses dissolved into nothingness, leaving me open and exposed for the boy – no, _man_ – in front of me. Someone who was my friend, someone who always supported me, someone who always helped me; _Alex, Alex is kissing me and it feels so—_

"I got it."

His breath was warm against my even warmer cheeks and a wide grin spread over his lips. I felt his hand slowly ascending from my pocket but before he got away, I grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Alex," I whispered.

"Yeah, that's me alright," he replied, still smiling teasingly. "Won't you let me go? I'd much like to see what you took from my bag."

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. _He smells so good… so impossibly good. _"Kiss me again."

Alex was quiet for a long while and I feared that he had only done it to surprise me into paralysis, so he could take back the letter. But soon I felt his soft lips moving over mine, slightly surprised but determined to stay on me. Soon, our bodies collided and the suspicious envelope was gone from my thoughts. I could only focus on Alex.

I dropped his hand and led them through the blond mess that was of his hair. He moaned quietly in protest but didn't let go of me and kissed me again. My eyes were closed but I did not need sight to feel his light fingers trailing down my face and to the small of my back. I did not need to see his handsome features to know that he was smirking as he pulled away from me, leaving me breathless.

"It seems like you find me alright then," he said teasingly and took hold of my hips. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time now."

I tried to calm my rapidly beating heart and took a deep breath. My eyes locked with his gray-green gaze and I let my hands trace the sharp line of his jaw. _He really is one hell of an attractive guy… how come I never saw it until now?_

"I-I…" I stammered and swallowed. I could feel the taste of him linger on my lips and it took me another moment to collect myself. "Alex, I—"

"It's alright," he said with a low voice and sank down his head until our foreheads met. "You don't have to say anything, I understand you."

Alex backed away from me and grinned mischievously.

"In fact I have something to ask you, Rawling." His smile widened. "Have you ever kissed a man before?"

My cheeks flushed with color and I tried to hide it with my hands. I quickly walked to my bed and tossed myself under the blanket, tryingly to stall as much time as possible until I could control my voice again.

"Certainly not and I can assure you that I will never kiss you again," I snapped and turned my back towards him. "If you ever try that again, I'll slap you; mark my words."

He chuckled and I heard him throw away his boots into the wall.

"Don't look about."

I huffed and closed my eyes. The time had already passed midnight a long time ago and I silently cursed; I would be so tired the next day, especially since I wanted to wake up early and find Mr. Pitcairn. I had wasted enough time on that man already.

As I slowly sailed away into a dreamless sleep, I allowed myself to remember Alex's kiss and blushed, my eyes opened wide. It fluttered in my stomach as I recalled his light fingers brushing my hair aside and the soft touch of our mouths connecting. I had been honest when I answered his question – I had in fact never kissed anyone else except my parents, maybe even my sister at times – but I didn't know if he had been mocking me or just found it amusing.

"Alex?"

He didn't answer and I repeated myself.

"Alex? You awake?"

"Now I am."

I cleared my throat and turned over.

Alex was lying on the bed in nothing but underwear, ignoring the sheets and only using a pillow as his headrest. He wasn't exactly muscular but had more of a lithesome build with long legs and slightly noticeable abs. His hand was splayed across his stomach and he breathed slowly.

"Stop looking at me, it's creepy."

I blushed again and looked at his face. The smile of a rogue spread on his lips and he opened his eyes.

"Or at least my body," he continued and raised his eyebrows. "And then you call me a pervert."

"Hey!" I growled and pulled my blanket higher. "At least I'm not sleeping half-naked."

Alex shrugged.

"It's hot." He yawned and blinked a couple of times. "What did you have to say?"

I bit my bottom lip and hesitated a moment before asking:

"Do you think it's weird that I haven't kissed anyone before?"

He started to laugh and I couldn't help but join. _Alex's happiness is so contagious_.

"Of course not," he answered and dried an invisible tear from the corner of his left eye. "It's cute in a way."

"_Cute_?" I paused when I realized that this was not his first time kissing a girl. "Oh, I see."

Alex stopped laughing and his eyes were serious as he looked at me.

"It's not like that, I promise," he said, his voice grave. "I'm sorry if it sounded like I was insulting you, I assure you that it was not my intention."

I gestured for him to calm down and shook my head.

"It's alright, never mind."

"Melissa…"

I shook my head again and gave him a little smile. I was always being honest with Alex and this was not an exception. _What had happened was just a mistake; he had only wanted that letter…_

"Alex, what is that letter about?" I asked him and searched my pockets. It wasn't there. "You took it, didn't you?"

He stiffened and pulled back his hair, his gaze focusing on something in the ceiling.

"It was the letter you sent me half a year ago," he replied. "Nothing special, I just wrote something private on the same paper that I don't want you to see."

"About the rebellion?"

Alex nodded.

"I can't show it to you, I'm sorry."

_Since when did a stupid war become more important than our friendship?_ I pressed together my lips and frowned. "So you only kissed me because of that?"

His eyes immediately met with mine and he regarded me so intensely that I almost wanted to hide.

"I kissed you because I like you, Mel."

I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head.

"Let's just sleep now, I don't want to miss our man again," he said and gave me a reassuring smile. "Night."

I smiled back at him and closed my eyes. It didn't take more than a minute before I was asleep, dreaming about a white eagle. Morning came quicker than I expected and woke me up with its dazzling light.

"Slept well?"

"God," I sighed and squinted.

"You can call me Alex; I'm completely fine with that."

I pulled the blanket over my head and groaned.

"Did you have to draw aside the curtains?" I complained and rubbed away the rest of the sleep from my eyes. "You're killing me."

"You're not a vampire, Mel. Just lazy," he answered and shook my shoulders. "Wake up now, it's already noon."

"What?!"

I jumped out of the bed and found my watch. He was right.

"Why haven't you awakened me?" I exclaimed and started to undress when I realized that he was still there. "Look away, pervert."

"Alright, alright."

I muttered a curse and quickly changed into the clothes I had used the day before. As I thought about yesterday, I suddenly recalled our kiss and blushed. _What am I for Alex? And what is he for me? Do I like him in that way? But I don't want to lose the friend in him… the only friend I actually have._

"Done soon?" he asked teasingly.

I glared at his back and sighed heavily.

"Everything is on," I replied and tamed my hair into obedience. "Let's get moving."

He nodded and we exited the inn in a hurry. The day was warm and when I looked up into the sky, it was perfectly blue with not a cloud as far as my eyes could see.

"Where did you get that watch?"

We sat up on our horses and headed towards the outskirts of Lexington. I was hoping to find a patrol of soldiers who could lead me to Mr. Pitcairn, since neither Alex nor I had seen a camp yesterday.

"I got it for my birthday," I explained as I searched for anyone wearing something red. "Mr. Kenway bought it for me."

"_That_ man gave you a present? Why?" he wondered and I shrugged. "Do you still meet him nowadays?"

I shook my head.

"Not that often, I fear," I said and yawned. _There you go; the truth. I meet with Mr. Kenway rarely and I have no idea what he might do else on his spare time… he's a very enigmatic man._ "There are Regulars ahead!"

I urged my horse into a gallop and reached the group of soldiers, halting before I rode them down. Alex stopped next to me.

"Greetings, sirs."

The officer leading the patrol signaled his subordinates to wait and turned his gaze towards me. He was perhaps a couple of years above forty, with stern blue eyes and fair skin.

"I would suggest the two of you to return to where you came from; it's not safe here anymore," he answered and eyed the two of us. "You are clearly not from here and mere children. Go back to your parents."

I would've felt insulted and really offended had it not been due to the man's serious tone. He wasn't being malignant, only honest.

_Let's hope he knows where I can find my target. _I looked back at him and replied, "I have a letter for John Pitcairn. Do you perhaps know where I can find him?"

His eyes widened slightly and he nodded.

"Certainly I do," he said and held out his gloved hand. "I can take it from here, young Miss."

"Can't do, sir," I responded and snorted. "You might be a spy."

The corner of the officer's mouth twitched and I saw that he restrained himself from smiling.

"Got a lot of courage to talk to an adult like that," he noted and his eyes switched to Alex. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Fifteen." _This year, at least._

The man in front of me paused then sighed.

"Alright, I'll see to it that you can deliver your letter _personally_ to Major Pitcairn." He turned around and started to walk. "Move out!"

Alex and I followed him without another word as well as the soldiers accompanying him. We followed the main road and turned to the left after perhaps a mile, reaching the encampment of the Britain troops. I realized that had Alex and I been just a bit more perceptive, we would've seen the many footprints and the marks from wagon wheels, imprinted into the ground. The atmosphere in the provisional military base was tense and I counted up to roughly a hundred – perhaps two hundred – good men, well-armed and in high spirits. Nobody seemed to doubt that they were marching into victory.

"So many Redcoats…"

I hushed at Alex and staring shocked.

"Quiet!" I hissed then looked about. "You're supposed to stay neutral in this, Alex."

He exhaled and rolled with his eyes.

"I can't," he said quietly, riding closer to me. "I have to tell Paul about this or at least Connor…"

"_Connor_?!"

Alex raised his eyebrows and clenched his jaw.

"You know him?" he asked and I almost fell off my horse.

"Of course _not!"_ I exclaimed and got a confused glance from a nearby soldier. I ignored the man and swallowed. "But he tried to kill me!"

"What?! When did you meet? _How_?"

"He's that crazy alcoholic trying to kill me at Johnson Hall," I replied and tucked down my collar, showing Alex the scar. "Stay away from him, he's dangerous and completely—"

"Miss Rawling."


	19. Chapter 4:4

**A/N:**

**SO MUCH STUDYING.**

**GOD AWFUL.**

**BUT I'M ALIVE.**

**(Thanks to ice cream and a drama serie 3)**

**:D**

**Here's the next chapter! ^^**

**Chapter 7:3**

I had to admit that the adorned, powerful flintlock pistol was not my choice of weapon if I was free to choose. It took too long to reload and was too heavy for me to aim properly. Sure I could hit a person in a critical spot, but if there was to ever be a time when I would have to be extra careful what to hit, I would fail. On the other hand, I never denied the opportunity to arm myself with a couple of extra bullets and a gun if such a skirmish would be necessary.

But never to kill.

Swords and daggers were definitely something I mastered, and it felt natural for me to wield them, even though it looked somewhat odd at times when I walked about in the city. There were many women starting to arm themselves with lesser knives and daggers – most of them second- and third-rate weapons – that would protect them from an assailant or two, but nobody I've encountered had worn a sword. The one I carried was short compared to the soldiers', but sharp and light and easy to swing.

Though I had tried, there was no longer a chance for me to pretend I was a boy any longer. Female features were clearly noticeable – even through thick layers of fabrics – and though I had had my hair cut to the shoulders a while ago, nobody thought I was a boy. My bodily transformation had gotten to me a bit of a surprise, since I never got used to the monthly bleeding nor the experimental brassiere I had made. I could impossibly use a corset, my body rejecting the stiff material as wood does fire, and since my aunt wasn't the best seamstress and it would be too embarrassing to ask Alex's mother for help, I had tried my best to make something work. And it did – for now.

I was rather tall and muscular for a girl supposed to support her aunt with a printing shop and an old man with his general store, but it didn't bother me at all. I was hardly vain or caring too much for my appearance; a simple brush through my hair morning and evening was alright, as well as washing myself when needed.

Some girls actually had the audacity to shamelessly stare at me when passing by with their fancy, grand dresses in colors of peach, seaweed and lilies, their eyes glittering with humor and pity when regarding me. My mind could come up with no logical reason for their giggles and stifled laughs, but humiliation caught me off foot once when one of the girls finally spoke her thoughts out loud.

"So this is what men seek nowadays," she had said, giggling and throwing her large, blonde curls over her shoulder. "How tragic. Isn't it, ladies?"

Her entourage of similarly dressed girls quickly gathered around her, first worriedly watching me as they thought me a wild animal, but then also softly cooing in harmony. "Yes," they responded and I understood that the blonde woman was the leader of the pack.

Ironically, they acted more like animals than myself and I chose to add it in my answer as I recollected myself. "You actually remind me of a girl I used to know," I replied and gave her a polite smile. "Her name was... was it Belinda?" I had overheard an innkeeper on my way there as she screamed the name to one of the pigs cared for at her tavern.

"And what happened to your dear friend Belinda?" asked she immediately. "Maybe lost in alcohol and drugs?"

I didn't answer, exhorting her friends to laugh at me again, then shook my head. "No," I continued. "I fear her father lost all of their money, but she never told me because she was afraid what I would say. She dressed in the most beautiful garments and kept her appearance as handsome as possible in an attempt to forget." I cocked my head to the right. "But that would never happen to you, am I right?"

Her shocked expression said enough and I smiled contently. "Or am I mistaken?" I inquired innocently. "Because my aunt told me that something similar happened to your family."

"That was just awfully rude," she snapped viciously. Her eyes glittered with a sheen I knew to be tears but she was quick to recollect herself and haughtily raised her left eyebrow. "But I didn't expect something else from such a lowborn yourself." A false smile etched onto her lips. "I should have known better than to talk to you. Let's away, ladies."

"She shouldn't talk to you like that," said one of the girls behind her and eyed me from top down. "She needs to know her place."

"I agree," added another, a prettier girl than most. Her perfectly shaped hair flowed freely down her shoulders in large, dark waves, and her eyes shone like well-polished sapphires. "I wouldn't talk like that if I were you," she continued and crossed her arms. "Lonely girls do best to care extra how to behave. Accidents... happen."

She smiled venomously and I was just to reply with something harsher when another person cut in before me.

"Who said she was alone?"

I rolled with my eyes and sighed as Sergeant- _William _brusquely shoved his way through the lesser crowd of young women surrounding me and held up an innocent looking bag, that in fact contained wooden cases filled with bullets. My secret storage of weapons – a dusty old box behind a loose plank in the bedroom wall – was starting to run out of ammunition and I had therefore asked a certain soldier for help, since I didn't like to be low on stock if an emergency would appear. I wasn't even allowed into the arms deal to _browse_ the goods, but William had not only free access to enter – he had the necessary governmental papers to buy large amounts of it without anyone questioning him.

As William closed in to me, I immediately noticed the shy whisperings and flirtatious smiles that were thrown at him like flowers and bouquets on a grand parade. They glanced at him approvingly and fluttered with their eyelashes, almost desperately wanting him to offer them a single notion of attention. It was ridiculous to witness.

"Sergeant," greeted the blonde girl who had spoken to me at first and curtsied gracefully. She sent him a dazzling smile and I bit my lower lip in an attempt to quench my laughter. _Please, _I thought, _tell me this is some kind of a joke._

"Ladies," he acknowledged and seemed oblivious to their reactions. "What's happening here?" William pointed at me. "Is she causing any troubles?"

"Hey-" I started but the leader of the little group interrupted me.

"Yes," she quickly put in and her smile widened. "How fortunate that there's still some respectable men left in the world."

William raised a dark eyebrow. "I wasn't talking to you," he asked coolly and handed me the bag. Surprised gasps followed his movement and he frowned as he met my gaze. "What's the issue, Melissa?"

I glared at him. "I don't need your help. And why did you point at me?" I exclaimed irritably and shook my head. "Nevermind," I continued. "Why took you so long?"

"There was a problem with the verification," answered William and shrugged. "I told a lie, saying that my certificate was the most recent and therefore maybe unfamiliar at some points, but I'm afraid I suspect something... off."

"Ahem." The girl with the golden curls looked at first me then at the sergeant. "Do you," she gestured between the two of us, "perhaps know each other? Acquaintances? Friends?"

William shrugged again. "I don't exactly _know_ her," he replied and I threw another angry glare at him. "And we're not exactly friends. Or foes."

I was just about to open my mouth and insult him, when his emerald-green eyes locked with mine and stunned me with their intensity. As he spoke, I noticed that his otherwise so proud and sarcastic voice was smothered by something different; I could swear that he sounded _honest_.

"I owe her."

I closed my mouth and swallowed. The atmosphere had suddenly turned awfully genuine, especially in the company of so many strangers. William had unabashedly spoken the words so candidly and that none of the girls even dared to smile. He didn't need me to respond because he already knew what I thought about that. I didn't like to be in dept to anyone and rarely confessed that I needed help, but I did owe the sergeant my life and that was a fact I couldn't neglect for the sake of my own stubborn pride. Unfortunately enough. It wasn't something I was happy for but I admitted it, if somewhat reluctantly. That was why I felt like I had to help, support and advice him to follow a better road than that of Elizabeth's.

Because no matter how many times I wanted to forget it, I couldn't erase my thoughts of her. She felt... _familiar_. And I was scared of what she had done to Alex and might be continuously doing, but yet again my stupid pride would absorb the worry and convince me that everything was alright, that I was only superstitious, and keep me away from him.

I really wanted to meet him – only, I knew I couldn't.

* * *

_1777, November 30__th_

"Enough of that."

I grimaced in disgust as the headless body slumped to the ground with a wet sound. I hadn't been prepared for it to happen, but didn't feel as bothered as one should be when witnessing such a brutal execution. Maybe Mr. Kenway had been right – maybe I was starting to lose my emotions. Or was I simply waiting to catch the recoil? Was my mind to slow to realize that the poor man really was dead?

"You did not have to kill him!"

Mr. Kenway scoffed. "He carried nothing of interest and could barely speak properly," replied my master casually and handed me back the gun. "Let's not waste time with all this pointless banter. Go catch up with the rest of Church's men, infiltrate that camp of theirs and see what you can discover."

Mr. Kenway glanced at me. "You will follow as well."

"But-" I started, but he quickly shook his head.

"Don't let me hear none of that." He cocked his head towards Connor. "It should be a shame to admit, but I don't really trust him. Seek to it that you actually _do_ find their hiding spot."

I sighed heavily and dared lifting my gaze to catch the Assassins. His eyes were grave, angry and disappointed, but the feelings weren't aimed towards me. I could see how much he would like to despise and disobey his father, but as I was bound with loyalty of heart, he was bound with Mr. Kenway through blood. And blood would always be thicker than water.

"Yes, sir," I said resignedly and exhaled. "But," I picked up my pistol he had used, "at least you could be as nice as to take care of this?" I asked. "I wouldn't want to lose it in the chase or the run, neither do I think it practical when I have my sword."

My teacher shrugged. "If it bothers you as I know it does when holding a gun, then hand it over," he replied and I gave the heavy weapon back to him. "You shouldn't really be hindered at all by this."

"I know," I said immediately. "It's just..." I hesitated before continuing, my voice almost a whisper. "I... I can't get the dead boy out of my mind."

Mr. Kenway looked at me in confusion but I turned away from him and started walking with my gaze fixed onto the white ground. I instantly regretted what I had said and hurried into a jog to keep myself warm.

"Are you coming, Assassin?" I called. "I'll see you later, sir!"

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind from the images of that fateful night for so many years ago. It still sickened me. Worse is that six days after the Boston Massacre, I had been sneaking by on the roofs and decided to make a quick visit to the Green Dragon Tavern, the inn housing the headquarters of the Templars. I had overheard my teacher praising Mr. Lee for initiating the slaughter of all those people on the market-place.

Mr. Charles Lee had almost caused my death and so had Mr. Kenway. They had brought death to Boston in a quantity never seen before, with a bone-chilling disregard for human life. Everything had happened with only the power of a gun. Therefore I despised using it and had sworn never to use it to kill, only to learn how to use and to threaten. And that was an oath I intended to keep.

No matter what.


	20. Chapter 4:5

**Chapter 4:5**

_1775, April 19th_

The morning was warm with a soft wind against my back, but deep inside I felt like ice. I didn't at all like the way Alex and I had split, how harsh and irrational I had behaved.

_He will never forgive me for saying those things,_ I thought bitterly as I swallowed the last of my bread. _He cannot; not even Alex will show such kindness to me._

"Disperse, you damned rebels! Lay down your arms and disperse!"

Mr. Pitcairn sounded tired but more than determined to get this over with and seeing most of the rebels flee from the battlefield made me more confident in our cause. If even the soldiers of the Continental army would understand to run away, it was obviously because they knew that their doing was wrong indeed.

I watched Mr. Pitcairn raise his hand and gesturing to open fire. The sound was almost deafening and I released my reins, quickly covering my ears. I tried to extinguish the faces of the rebels that stood their ground behind a low stonewall – maybe would Alex be there. The sound of bullets piercing into human flesh and the growls of the dying men made my stomach turn in disgust but I stood vigilant, making sure that he wasn't among them. But suddenly, my eyes caught onto a white-hooded man, running away from the battle. There was no doubt about it; it was _him_.

I automatically reached for my sword – which Mr. Pitcairn had been nice enough to offer me – and gritted my teeth. _I hate you._

"Fire!"

Another round of blasting rifles lighted the plain field and filled the air with a musky smell. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that I would have to get used to the odd scent as soon as possible.

"Charge!"

I quickly regained my posture and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. Most of the Regulars knew me as Mr. Pitcairn's nephew, Edgar, and that my father had sent me to follow his brother to the New World. I was supposedly here since I had a dream to become a General when older and to teach me the basics of military strategy in real combat. My exact age hadn't been made official and I was not allowed to speak unless spoken to. The reason why Mr. Pitcairn had chosen to do this was because he knew that a camp with at least a hundred men would make a girl's stay difficult, even under the supervision of a trusted guard. I was dressed in a not too startling outfit with simple pants, a white linen shirt and a jacket, as well as armed with a pistol and a double edged rapier. My hair was tucked beneath a large hat and I secretly thanked whoever had been in charge of my clothes for being so thoughtful.

Most of the men defending Lexington had died – their bodies blossoming with a color I was growing accustomed to – and the remaining of the rebels were quickly taken care of with the sharpness of a sword or two. I quietly watched as Mr. Pitcairn fired his gun from his position on the horse, killing an old man who stubbornly stood his ground until a soldier cut him down.

_Horrible… war is just nauseatingly horrible,_ I thought as an officer nonchalantly kicked away a dying man's rifle, and then buried his sword into the rebel's throat. _But alas too necessary for certain situations; still, that doesn't make this any easier to watch._

"The rebels are no more, sir!"

"Ready to move on."

"The last of them has fallen, sir!"

I turned to Mr. Pitcairn and saw him nodding to each one of his subordinates. His expression was set grim and he gazed over the battlefield.

"Towards Concord," he said and the officers quickly organized their troops. The company hurried away, leaving the town of Lexington with nothing but dead men. Half an hour later, we reached a wide, wooden bridge, apparently our only way across the river. Watching Mr. Pitcairn organize his soldiers was interesting to watch but I knew that it would be impossible for me to do it. The role of a leader was simply not my thing and I admitted it.

"Are you ready?"

I shook my head and smiled nervously.

"This is my first time in the frontlines, sir," I replied and straightened in my saddle. "But I'll do my best."

Major Pitcairn started laughing and I felt even more embarrassed, thinking that he was laughing at my inexperience.

"Certainly not," he said and smirked. "Both Charles and Haytham would skin me alive if I allowed you to join; I have another mission for you."

"A mission?" I repeated as I found myself dumbfounded and cleared my throat. "What do you mean, sir?"

The old Templar opened his mouth to continue when he was interrupted by a couple of officers. He ordered them into firing position and to wait for further orders. I took the time to analyze the rebels on the other side of the bridge. They were well-armed and determined, but not especially many. _This will probably end in another slaughter_.

"Excuse me for the interruption, Melissa."

"No, it's all right, sir," I quickly answered, happy that he used my forename. "What is it you'll have me do?"

Mr. Pitcairn pointed down the two sides of the large bridge where soldiers were ushered into firing position. There was still an eerie peace between the Regulars and the rebels, but that would change soon enough.

"I want you to move behind enemy lines and cut down everyone from the left side, then make me a signal; I'll point my forces towards the right and then clash into the middle," he said and illustrated his words using hand movements. "If we breach through their defenses, they will have no choice but to retreat."

I nodded in agreement and jumped down from my horse.

"Dispatch of them as quickly as you can," Mr. Pitcairn continued and loosened his holster, handing it over to me. "I do not doubt your abilities, especially not since Haytham is to vouch for you, but better keep this close to you for the sake of your safety."

I received the heavy object and hitched off the gun holster from the weapon itself. It was much larger than I had anticipated and I tried the weight in my hand… it would suffice. Putting down the strap of leather in my saddlebag, I hid the gun in the waistband of my trousers and pulled my shirt over; the flintlock pistol was as good as hidden.

"Thank you, sir." I tightened my belt and felt the blunt weapon chafing against my skin. "I'll return it to you as soon as the battle has ended."

"As you please."

I nodded once again and backed away from him, hurrying towards the riverbank after having made sure that nobody saw me. The soldiers seemed too focused on the oncoming battle that I could navigate through the lines without any complications.

_How fortunate that Alex is not here,_ I thought as I slid down a slope, reaching a stream connected to the river. _I guess there is some prospect of hope even in a dire situation._

The water didn't seem particularly deep but the current was strong and I realized that swimming to the other side was no option. Not only would I be soaked and freezing as soon as I emerged, I'd be easy to spot and shot down in an instant. I decided to continue walking until I would discover the thinnest part of the flood and try to wade across it. Luck was with me and I was even able to find a way over without becoming wet, jumping on stone to stone to the other side.

"Who's there?"

I changed my face into complete exhaustion and sorrow, seeing a trio of rebels approaching me.

"Please… help me," I breathed and threw off my hat, revealing my long hair. "I barely got away."

They quickly moved closer to me with worried expressions and sheathed their weapons. One of them was barely older than me – let alone Alex – and I saw that he exhaled in relief. Had he only known that I was a lot worse than I looked, he might have ran, but who would fear a girl like me?

I waited until they were an arm's length away from me before I reacted, aiming a kick towards the knee which crippled one of the men. The second didn't even have the time to blink before I silenced him with a strike to his neck. By the time they landed on their backs, I had already buried my fist into the stomach of the boy. They were all rendered immovable and harmless in a couple of seconds.

"Help me!"

The only one who remained conscious tried to pull forth his rifle but it was being held down by his own weight. He yelled again and I placed my foot on his neck, casually leaning down to pick up my hat.

"How many soldiers are positioned out here except for you?" I asked politely as I combed back my hair into the dark, triangular-shaped hat. When he refused to answer, I pressured his airway with my weight and a choking sound came out of his throat. "I won't ask again." _I'm sorry, but Mr. Pitcairn counts on me to do this, as well as Master Kenway. And I don't fail._

The man grimaced and gripped my leg, trying to yank it away from him, but I instantly pulled my rapier and placed the point on his abdomen. He was a lot stronger than me for sure and I wouldn't let him have a chance to overpower me.

"Speak."

He stiffened and gurgled something incomprehensible. I sighed and lifted my foot a fifth of an inch above his throat, gesturing for him to continue.

"We're a dozen spread in three's all over this side of the bridge," he answered and his gaze was hateful as he met my eyes. "You won't be able to get through them all."

"Is that so," I replied sarcastically and hit him with the flat side of my blade. His blue eyes fluttered closed and I left the three rebels unconscious and unarmed, throwing their weapons into the river. I continued towards the battle at the bridge and dealt with whomever I met. The man had spoken the truth; after having dispatched of the third trio of men, I reached the final group of rebels. And I couldn't believe what I saw.

Three – _three_ – middle-aged Patriots were keeping away a whole third of Major Pitcairn's company. They seemed inexperienced and much nervous but kept their stance, firing when ordered to.

I snuck forward to them, limping as one of them saw me. They fell for my lie as the others had done and I knocked them out with a couple of swift movements. I bent down to inspect if they were still alive and gathered their weapons, ready to throw them away or render them useless.

"Who are you?"

I stiffened. _That voice… _"What's it to you?" I asked with such a deep voice I could muster and slowly rose to standing. "I'm just a simple thief."

"A thief that makes sure that his victims are alive and well? And then takes nothing but their weapons, leaving their easily accessible pockets untouched?"

I shrugged and continued, still not turning around to let him see my face.

"Weapons are expensive and easy to sell."

"They're heavy and draw a lot of attention."

His voice came not directly behind me but more from above and I guessed that he was sitting on a horse. I quickly calculated a plan and the pistol I had received from Mr. Pitcairn slipped into my hands.

"Don't move!" I yelled as I spun around.

His dark, hazelnut-colored eyes locked with mine and even though I tried to look away I couldn't.

"I thought so," he simply said.

"Don't come closer," I warned him and pointed my weapon towards him. The heavy pistol felt awkward in my grip but I had learned enough from Mr. Kenway to know how to aim and reload.

"Take it easy now; you don't want to do this."

I felt that my arms started shaking, if not for the immense weight of the gun, but because that I was about to shot someone – I had never killed anyone before.

"Melissa."

"So you recall me?" I asked mockingly and took a step back, readying the gun meanwhile. "You took your time."

He opened his mouth to answer but I didn't let him have the chance. Instead of shooting _him_ I aimed at the horse, hoping that he would fall with it and break a leg at least. I didn't wait to see if I actually succeeded but hurried back into the thick forest. Realizing much too late that I had forgot to signal Mr. Pitcairn about the completion of my mission, I hesitated in my steps and slipped on a mossy stone.

"Argh!"

I landed on my back and the air was pushed out of my lungs. Black spots dotted my vision and I tried to calm my breathing back to normal. My foot was throbbing with pain and I groaned while trying to sit up.

"Do you need help?"

I would've jumped to my feet if I could but only a surprised gasp escaped my lips. The Assassin kneeled next to me and as I quickly crawled away from him, my back hit the same stone I had slipped on. I had nowhere to go.

"I think you've sprained your ankle."

I sighed and stared into the ground. _What does he want me?_ "Yes, I fear that's correct," I replied and pulled my legs to my chest. _How did he get to me this quickly? Is this how superior an Assassin really is?_

"I won't hurt you."

I kept my gaze low, refusing to answer, but then I suddenly felt his hand gently gripping my chin and nudging my face upwards.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated and smiled crookedly. "I won't ask any questions neither, but let me help you."

I shook my head and fumbled to grip my rapier. He realized what I was doing and firmly gripped the two of my hands in one if his.

"Where can I take you to safety?"

"You could just leave me and let me be," I answered and avoided his gaze. "I don't need anything from you."

"I don't even think you can stand with the injury, let alone _walk_," he said and raised his eyebrows when I pushed him away.

"Watch me."

I supported myself on the large rock and rose up, putting all of my weight on my okay foot. As I managed to stand, I gave him my best "what-did-I-just-say" expression. But when I took a step forward, I lost my balance and the ground came rushing back to my face.

"Got you."

I slowly opened my eyes and found myself face to face with him. An instant flush of red colored my face and I had the urge to slap myself, had it not been for the already immense pain in my foot.

"Ah." I paused and felt how my face turned even darker. _Damn it._ "Thank you."

He helped me to standing but then suddenly lift me up.

"What are you doing? Hey!"

"It will take much too long to walk with you," he replied and I could swear that he sounded amused. "Where shall I take you?"

I grimaced and tried to struggle, but he seemed not to notice. His right arm was hooked beneath the sockets of my knees and his left was grabbing me tightly around my shoulders. I realized how I was slipping out of his grip and instinctively took hold of his neck.

"Just get me across the river, please."

_There's no point of arguing anymore_, I thought as he nodded and started walking. The Assassin didn't at all seem troubled with my weight nor the awkward situation we both were in. He quietly hurried to the riverbank and waded through the strong current without any problems. Fortunately enough for me, Mr. Pitcairn had gained an advance and moved his troops away from the right side – for us – of the bridge.

"You have someone here with you?"

I was carefully sat down on a fallen tree and I exhaled when my sprained foot touched the ground without any spike of pain.

"Yes, my best friend," I replied without realizing what I actually said. "He is nearby; I'll find him from here."

The Assassin opened his mouth to answer but I waved him away.

"Go," I continued and took off my hat. "I thank you for taking me across the river but I'll be fine now. You better hurry back to aid the rebels." I added.

He smiled crookedly – something that I had come to notice he did often – and nodded.

"I guess this is goodbye; for now. Something tells me we will meet again, Melissa Rawling."

Then he turned back towards the river, leaving me alone. Where he had touched me I felt warm, warmer than I had ever felt before and a strange feeling seeped into my body. I was still blushing and my heart was beating rapidly, even though I had been unmoving for at least the quarter of an hour.

"I hope not," I mumbled as I tried to rub back some life into my foot. _I hope not, Connor._


	21. Chapter 5:1

**Chapter 5:1**

_1775, June 17th_

_**17**__**th**__** June, 1775 –**__ …having troubles sleeping onboard this bloody ship but my orders were clear; I'm not allowed to return to land until it sinks or my life is in danger. Like either of those options will come true! I can't even write a single word before the captain fires another round of cannonballs, the blast threatening to shatter my teeth, and I'm seriously considering sleeping at the top of the mast. Not only would I finally be free from the smell of gunpowder, I might actually have some peace at last._

"Arm the cannons! Hold fire... Shoot!"

I sighed as the deck of the ship rumbled under me and my pen slipped once again. A long, ugly line marked the page and I decided to give up.

"Ahoy, captain! Our forces have collided with the rebels; shall I cease fire?"

The navigating officer ran past me and gave me a quick nod of acknowledgment. I gave him a little smile and rose to my feet, brushing off dirt from my backside. The sky was grey with heavy clouds and smoke trailing its way from Charlestown, a neighborhood in Boston. I had the day before warned my aunt – if the sizable amount of soldiers on Bunker Hill and the large ships at distance from bay wasn't obvious enough – to stay away from trouble and remain inside. Her apartment was in central Boston, just a couple of blocks away from the battle and I would not let her foolishness lure her out into danger. In fact, I even thought about contacting Alex in New York or talk to his mother who was back into the store next to where Auntie and I lived, but my pride got the better of me and the letter I had written to him was thrown into the fire. I could simply not forgive him for his betrayal nor pretend like nothing had happened. Neither of us were people of such and the silence between us continued.

"Sir?"

"No, keep firing; I can't have the rest of Putnam's forces thinking we're out of ammunition. We'll have to take this risk, as well as the damage of the city."

The captain – his name: William Somerset – of the ship wasn't truly a captain of rank; he was just an officer with more wit than courage, rising above his subordinates with the help of money and his family name, as his father was Henry Somerset and the fifth Duke of Beaufort. He was probably the youngest soldier I had seen, still not twenty years old and was rather handsome had it not been for his gruesomely proud demeanor. I didn't like him and the dislike was mutual. He had been trusted with my true identity and had therefore at times insulted me in subtle ways. But I didn't protest against Mr. Pitcairn's decision, knowing that he only wanted my best. I could remember it like yesterday when he had helped me up on a horse and fallen back from Concord. I assured him that there was no need for such necessities but he had insisted on it, explaining that even though I had succeeded with my mission, the battle was lost. He continued to address me with my first name and slowly gained my trust. Mr. Pitcairn wasn't like the late Mr. Johnson, caring only for money and comfort, but actually tended to his wounded soldiers and was a genuinely humble man. I came to like him and after discovering our common passion for writing journals, I confessed to him my failure with delivering the letter untouched. The old Templar seemed to understand me and comforted me with the thought that if now Alex was such a good person as I had described him to be… he wouldn't take advantage of me, but instead apologize for his wrongdoing before long.

"Captain, are you sure…? Many good men – would it be ours or theirs – might die."

The officer nodded and gazed towards the bombarded city.

"Yes, regress to your position."

The subordinate hesitated before answering, obviously wanting to object the officer's orders but bowed and turned away. As he passed me for the second time, he shot me a quick glance before continuing walking down to the gundecks.

_Ah, what should I do?_ I sighed and put my belongings into a bag, making sure that none of my notes would slip out. _Life must be hard on the ocean, knowing that there's nothing but the safety of one's crew and ship. Though very exciting at times, I must admit. A pirate must be the freest man in the world… maybe in another lifetime I would've become one._

"Fire!"

I grimaced as another round shot off into the distance and approached the gunwale, placing my elbows on the hardened wood towards the other side of where the cannons were shooting. I saw the open sea in front of me and cherished the view of dark water reaching all the way to the horizon. It would've been so peaceful had I been here without the sound of death and war behind me… together with someone… maybe—.

I interrupted the train of thought with a brusque shake of my head. _Alex is a finished chapter, already gone and forgotten. I'll have no more to do with him._

As I sighed heavily and stared into the endless water surrounding me, something white suddenly caught onto my attention. I didn't know what to believe when _he_ swam around the stern of the ship and nimbly sprung out of the water, hitching onto the ship's hull. He was completely soaked except for his hood – which miraculously had stayed dry somehow – and it was covering his face, preventing me from seeing him and him from seeing me… but it was not like I knew many people that looked like him.

_Will fate ever let me avoid that man?_

I could still remember his arms around me, his strong reassuring grip around my body and him so close to me. I still despised him to the point of hate, but there was something so… alluring with him that I couldn't stay away.

"Hey," I said and smiled when his body twitched in surprise. "Sneaky, aren't we."

I quickly erased whatever emotion I was showing in my face and as his eyes finally found mine, I was sure to look expressionless.

"Ah, I guess I failed," he replied and climbed up to me. I watched him in awe as his hands found places to grip where I saw the wood to be flat, and he almost magically reached to where I stood.

"What are you doing here?" I asked and realized that I was sounding polite. "This is not a place for murderers like you," I added with a harsh undertone.

He glanced over the gunwale and I guessed that he was counting the number of soldiers on board. There was none on the upper deck presently and he seemed satisfied with the fact.

"I have to do this," he answered and turned to me with creasing eyebrows. "But what are _you_ doing here? You're a child."

"I'm sixteen," I corrected him and frowned. "And I've never actually been a child."

His eyes widened as he understood what I meant.

"I see… Maybe you and I have more—"

"Edgar?"

I whipped around and stared right into the eyes of Officer Somerset. He was watching me with a strange expression and approached me with slow steps.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked and gripped his rapier. "Is someone there?"

I quickly shook my head and smiled at him. _Please, can I have more misfortune brought upon me? _"Sir, no, not what I can see. I was just… rehearsing."

"Rehearsing for what? A play?"

_Eh… _"No, I…" I took a deep breath before continuing and felt blood rushing to my cheeks. _Damn, really Melissa? _"I-I was wondering if you… if you might want to—"

A loud explosion knocked me off my feet as the frigate next to ours burst into flames. I squinted with my eyes as I looked into the inferno, the heat emanating from the sinking ship almost blinding me.

"Are you alright? Hey? Can you hear me?"

Officer Somerset's voice was dampened, almost like he was trying to talk through a window, but it was close. Almost like he was…

"Sir?" I was still dazzled by the blast and realized to my horror that he was lying on me. "What happened?"

"The ship blew up," he said, grunting. I restrained myself from replying with something sarcastic and waited for him to continue. _Like that wasn't obvious; I'm wondering what in God's name you're doing _on_ me._ "I just reacted as soon as I could..."

"Sir?" I repeated as his voice became silent. "Officer Somerset?"

He didn't reply and I suddenly became worried. _Did he pass out or something? He's still breathing and I can feel his heartbeat…_

"Connor? Are you there?"

I could hear his silent footsteps closing in on me and soon see his face as well. He quickly scanned over Officer Somerset's lifeless body and lifted him away from me, gently placing the soldier with his face downwards the deck. I was just about to ask him why he moved the officer with such care when I saw the large piece of wood, buried into the man's lower back. It had pierced through his thick coat and dark blood trickled out of the wound.

"Oh Lord …" I whispered, realizing that Officer Somerset had sacrificed himself for me. "Why… why did he do that?"

Connor ignored me and I heard him locking the entrance to the lower decks. I turned around and saw him crushing a barrel of rum, pouring out the alcohol through the holes in the hatch. He then threw in a couple of pouches and my guess was that they contained gunpowder.

"You better get off this ship as soon as you can," he said and raised his gaze towards the mainmast. "It's soon going to explode as well."

I didn't know what to reply. _Why is he doing this? _Instead I bent down next to Officer Somerset and, with a grimace of utter disgust, pulled out the wood from his back and checked his breathing. To my surprise, he was still alive.

"We got to get him some help," I exclaimed and started to pull the officer's arm over my shoulders. "Give me a hand."

"I can't."

I tried to heave Officer Somerset up, but his weight was too much for me and I sank down again.

"You can't just get away with this, It's inhumane and completely—"

"Captain! Can you unlock the hatch?"

I recognized the voice of the navigating officer and stiffened. _Should I feint myself dead or answer him truthfully?_

"Hello?"

My eyes locked with Connor's before he looked away and headed for the hatch. I couldn't believe my eyes as he buried his sword into the entry, killing the minor officer. The sound of the body limping down the stairs immediately drew attention and I heard surprised yelling and soon, fingers were clawing at the hatch and I saw that swords and muskets had their ways with the iron lock.

"Hurry away," said the Assassin quietly and flung a rope over his shoulders. "I won't ignite the rum until you've gotten away, I promise."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked with a harsh tone and unlaced Officer Somerset's Tarleton helmet, revealing black, curly hair. "You have no reason to help the rebels! You are an Assassin, a brotherhood of—"

"How do you know about the Brotherhood?"

My heart skipped a beat as his brown eyes flashed to mine and an angry expression etched onto his features. The blast of a gun distracted him and I decided to take the risk of pushing Officer Somerset into the water and swim with him back to Boston. I had carefully calculated the plan and realizing that I had no other choice – and that the man in front of me seemed to be more than willing to kill me – I threw my dagger at him, aiming for his heart. To my awe, he easily dodged the knife and it buried into the wall behind him.

"Sirs, shoot at him!" I screamed. "He's killed Officer Somerset and is about to blow us all into smithereens!"

A growl of angry men escaped the closed hatch and more shots were fired towards the Assassin. They were unfortunately in a too bad of an angle to even wish to hit him but if he would try approach me, he would end up in their firing range.

Our eyes met, his hazelnut-colored orbs cold with frustration and anger, and I slowly dragged Officer Somerset to the left side opening – I'm no sailor, don't blame me on larboard and starboard – in the gunwale and hesitated a second before shoving him out of the ship. He hit the water with force and I instantly dived in after him, catching his sinking form and raising his face above water level. Fortunately for me, I had been very attentive whenever Mr. Kenway taught me how to _save_ a man and learnt how to do when saving someone from drowning.

The sea was cold but bearable and even though it had been a while since I last took a swim, I quickly got into rhythm and headed towards the place of the bay where ships were repaired. It would be easy for me to get him to ground level from there and report to Mr. Pitcairn about what had happened with the frigates.

_He was armed with a gun but still didn't shoot me_, I thought as I gripped my arm around Officer Somerset's waist and swam backwards. _He could've thrown his tomahawk at me but he didn't. He had the option to kill me once again but he restrained. I've seen him kill many people without even blinking and still he let me go._

_Is it luck that has taken me this far?_


	22. Chapter 5:2

**A/N:**

**If there is anyone wondering if a chapter and its parts (example 1:1, 1:2, 1:3, 1:4) are connected more than another (example that chapter 1 has nothing to do with chapter 2), it doesn't work like that at all. My system with the chapters is only to keep them in order and since I thought that "Chapter 4:4" looks better than "Chapter 19". ^^ Sorry if it confused some and for those who already understood what I meant but are not understanding why the hell I'm keeping you from my story and babbling, I'm sorry as well o.o**

**Chapter 5:2**

_1775, June 17th_

"I swear he's crazy."

I sighed and placed a damp towel on Officer Somerset's forehead. He was suffering from a severe fever and the bumpy ride wasn't exactly "pleasant" for the heavily injured soldier.

"Will is the most reckless man I've ever seen. Once I even saw him trying to wrestle a black grizzly bear."

I sighed again and the man gave me a playful punch. Mid-motion, I blocked him and turned his wrist in a painful angle, making him whimper and back away.

"Let me be, please." I didn't even bother addressing him with his title. After all, he was just a normal foot soldier. "Do I look like I'm in the mood to gossip?" I added and glared at him. "Actually, do I _ever_ look like I'm in the mood to gossip?"

Private Addison rolled with his eyes at me.

"What would you say if I would reply with a yes?"

"Don't make me hit you."

He sighed and stretched out on the floor of the wagon, knocking into Officer Somerset's hip. The latter groaned loudly and grimaced in pain, slowly opening his eyes, and glared at the two of us with a frown.

"Wow, can one be more graceful than you?" I hissed as I carefully put my hand under Officer Somerset's torso, my fingers digging in between his shirt and the sack of potatoes he was resting on. He let out a loud yell as I reached the injury. "Shush… I'm trying to be as gentle as I can."

I didn't want to scold him for admitting that he was hurt and felt aggrieved, but he would soon draw us the attention of the rebels and I'd rather have him be angry at me than being on the other side of a gun.

"You seem to care a lot about him."

After making sure that his bandages hadn't fallen off or bled through, I turned towards Private Addison with creased eyebrows.

"Not really," I answered truthfully as I eyed him up and down. "But he saved my life; I could as well try to make the best of it. How so?"

He shook his head and smiled.

"It's just that I would never have believed that he, the proud little brat raised as a true aristocrat, would save someone like _you_," he replied and shrugged. "But what do I know? I'm just that bastard's best friend, that's all."

I didn't know what to say. _Private Addison has explained exactly what I thought Officer Somerset to be, but neither do I know why he chose to save me. Was he paid extra to keep me alive? That must be it. Thank you, Mr. Pitcairn, I won't forget this._

"Private Addison?"

He lazily looked at me and I hugged the jacket closer to my wet body. The soldier had been nice enough to offer me it earlier and I was slowly getting back the feeling in my fingers. _Thanks._

I had been fortunate enough to reach the bay without any bigger trouble – since Officer Somerset was a lot skinnier than I had first thought – and after dragging him up to land, I made sure that he still was alive and breathing. That was when I noticed that he had been awake during all this time. It was good because I realized that he couldn't be fatally wounded but bad since I was going to have a lot to explain. But as I opened my mouth to say something, he tiredly shook his head and gestured for me to come closer.

"You… a friend… not far…help…"

I understood what he meant and ran around the docks, desperately trying to find a patrol of soldiers. It didn't take me too long to find some help and they got a carriage driver as well. I asked them where I could find Mr. Pitcairn and after finally convincing them that I was serious, they said that he had escaped the city and stationed at Moulton Hill. That's where we were heading now.

"What is it? Are you sleeping again?"

I tried to open my eyes but it was impossible. It just felt so good lying here in the wagon, finally away from all the smoke and noise of the ship and her crew, and resting on… wait, what amI leaning on?

Officer Somerset groaned as I lifted my head from his chest and I felt my cheeks flushing with color.

"I'm terribly sorry," I blurted out and rubbed my eyes. "I was just so tired and—"What_ in God's name am I doing? _

He didn't have time to answer before the wagon stopped and a soldier's head peeked through the large cover.

"We've arrived to Moulton Hill."

Private Addison and I helped Officer Somerset out of the cart, after making sure that my hair had been tucked into a bun and covered by a brown cocked hat. My clothes were relatively dry but my shirt was soaked to my skin and I buttoned the jacket, realizing that the shape of my breasts were visible. I had wrapped a piece of fabric around the upper part of my torso to hide them as much as possible, but something had – maybe when I had dived into the water – unlatched the little safety-pin and I couldn't find it wherever I searched.

_I might have a spare in my bag_, I thought before grimacing. _Ah, I guess that water doesn't do especially good with paper. I reckon my notebook is completely ruined, as well as my notes and letters… at least I got rid of the sketch of Alex._

"Dreaming again? You really are exhausted."

I rolled with my eyes and tried to walk as straight as I could with Officer Somerset's arm around my shoulders. Even though most of the soldiers knew I was young, I was a lot shorter than most of them. The two idiots I was walking with were surely six-seven inches ahead of me, making it hard for me to carry Officer Somerset.

"I'm tired," I replied and a strand of hair fell over my cheek. I irritably pushed it into my hat before continuing. "I've been on that ship for at least two days without sleep. Have you ever experienced how it is on a frigate?"

Private Addison scoffed but stayed quiet and I smiled at his inability answer. _What a fool._

"Could you please stop arguing? It's hurting my ears."

I glanced to my left and Officer Somerset's eyes were opened halfway. He was breathing heavily and every step he took was clearly very painful, judging by his facial expression and stiff movements.

"I'm sorry," I said bit my lower lip. _I'm way too nice to him; even if he did save my life, he was very rude to me at several occasions._ "But I guess I now know what kind of person you are. Your friend is somewhat of a _talker_."

"You mean a gossiping bitch?"

I raised my eyebrows and he grinned.

"Don't worry," he whispered and closed his eyes. "He's a better person than me, though fairly stupider."

"Hey, Blackbird, I can hear you."

Officer Somerset's smile widened and I saw how much more relaxed he was in the company of his friend. He almost seemed like another person, a happier one, and I actually liked this part of him.

"'Blackbird'?" I asked them to halt as I caught a passing officer, asking him where I could find Mr. Pitcairn. The officer told me that he was standing on top of the hill and I thanked him before turning my attention towards Officer Somerset again.

"Well," he started and swallowed. "Just a nickname; I'm fairly young as you see and instead of calling me 'Rookie' or 'Private', the company I first joined with decided to call me Blackbird."

"Why?" I wondered and we slowly approached the real Moulton Hill. A flagpole was waving the British colors and beneath it I saw Mr. Pitcairn. _Finally, we made it._

"Since the color of my hair is black."

"You're missing the crucial part, Will."

Private Addison started laughing and I glared angrily at him over Officer Somerset's hunched shoulders.

"He's not telling you everything," continued the red-headed soldier. "This boy has an absolutely stunning voice. Singing that is."

I looked at Officer Somerset, surprised with what I had heard. He didn't exactly look like someone who enjoyed things like that… more like a person who was up all night to perfect his shooting skills in the dark.

"It's nothing, really," said the officer and scoffed. "Shut up, John."

_Thanks_, I mouthed to Private Addison and the soldier grinned widely.

"So how old are you?" I asked, curious since Officer Somerset's friend had nothing but teased him for his age.

"Nineteen."

"Really?" I exclaimed and stared at him.

He gave me a tired smile and nodded. I glanced over his shoulders again and Private Addison nodded. I looked back at Officer Somerset and he nodded as well.

_Wow, so very young and already an officer, _I thought as we reached the top of the hill. _Is it because of luck or money? Or is he perhaps a really good soldier?_

"Major Pitcairn?"

Private Addison called out for the Templar and soon we saw him approaching us on a horse.

"I just finished my speech," he replied and creased his forehead as he looked at us. "What has happened? Melissa, is everything alright with you?"

I straightened and met his worried gaze.

"Yes, thanks to Private Addison—"

"Call me John."

I glared at him for interrupting me before continuing.

"—and Officer Somerset. He saved my life and almost died himself."

Mr. Pitcairn dismounted and handed me his coat. I thankfully swept myself into it after giving back Private Add— _John's_ jacket.

"I thank you for keeping an eye out for me," I said to the Templar. "I would've died if else."

"What are you talking about?"

I frowned at Mr. Pitcairn and suddenly felt confused. Officer Somerset stiffly turned his head towards mine and our eyes met. His emerald-green gaze locked onto mine and my face turned red in embarrassment. _Did he really…?_

"Rebels up ahead!"


	23. Chapter 5:3

**Chapter 5:3**

_1775, June 17th_

I woke up at the sound of something quiet. It sounded like footsteps but they were so light that it impossible could be a human. But what animal would approach a military encampment in the middle of a battle?

"Wake up," I whispered to Officer… _Sergeant_ Somerset and shook his shoulder. "Someone is outside our tent."

He didn't answer, obviously too exhausted, and I sighed heavily.

"I'll go alone then," I said and got up from the ground. "So much for your new rank, _William_."

My attempt on provoking him failed and as I tried to wake his friend, I was ignored again. I rolled my eyes at them and carefully maneuvered over their sleeping shapes, finding my way out of the tent without even touching them.

"Excuse me? Is anyone there?" I asked and gently pushed aside the tent flap, peeking out into forest. It was calm and quiet; I almost forgot where I was but the sounds from the battlefield behind me quickly reminded me.

There was no guard posted at Sergeant Somerset's tent and I found it odd. I could swear that Mr. Pitcairn had ordered a man to check on us now and then, as well as protect this side of the camp should the rebels want to do an ambush. But nobody was there.

"Hello?" I tried again but nobody replied. "_Hello_?"

Then I saw a sudden movement from the brushes nearby and instinctively gripped for my dagger. I made sure that my gun was loaded before slowly approaching the thick vegetation and was careful where I put my steps.

_Just the slightest sound and you're dead, Melissa. Take it easy; it's probably just a rabbit,_ I assured myself as I crouched when the brush started moving again. _Don't fright. Don't feel. Just kill it._

I was just in leaping range when a white-sleeved arm showed through the bushes and I – as foolish as I was, I thought it was a ghost – let out a terrified yelp and immediately recoiled. A head turned to me and I looked into the surprised expression of Connor.

"What are _you_ doing _here_?" he wondered as I said something similar, but not especially confident.

"I-I…" I stammered and hid my weapon behind my back. "Y-you scared me!"

He smirked and after making sure that I was alone, he rose up from his hunched position and brushed off dirt from his knees.

"It wasn't my intention, I apologize." He sounded sincere but his crooked smile indicated else. "You didn't answer my question: what are you doing here?"

I opened my mouth to answer as his eyes widened and before I knew it, he had hooked me into the brush with him.

"What—?"

He placed a finger on his lips, telling me to be quiet, and I obeyed albeit reluctantly. I didn't know how he had managed to fling me into the nature – I was skinny but not _that _skinny – but as I realized how he was holding me, I forgot everything else. He was gripping me tightly around my waist and pushing me against his chest. I could smell the crisp fragrance of water and saw that his boots were soaked.

_A soldier_, he mouthed to me and crouched even lower. I tried to make him let go off me but it was like trying to push a mountain. Or the mountain would've probably been easier, since it didn't distract me with its very agreeable view and irresistible scent. The man holding me wasn't exactly someone that could make me fall for his looks only, but his strength and skill in combat was what made him so very attractive. I actually felt safe with him – a hired murderer.

I stiffened when I felt that my dagger was gone. _I must've dropped it when he pulled me into the brush; but where?_

"Hmm…"

I recognized the voice of Officer Dyce and my body grew cold as I looked into Connor's dark eyes. They screamed murder.

"No…" I whispered. I didn't want the officer to find us – me – like this but neither did I want him to die. He had helped me and Alex when we were lost in Lexington and cared for us in the camp.

Connor's eyes flashed to mine and I understood that I hadn't been quiet enough; Officer Dyce had already noticed that something was wrong. His jaw clenched as he let go off me and gestured for me to stay down. I shook my head and gripped his tomahawk but he easily loosened my grasp of his weapons and frowned, his eyes clearly showing that he wondered what I was doing.

"Hey, is anyone there? Melissa?"

Connor tensed and gently sank me down on the ground. I furiously shook my head and grabbed his shirt. _Let me handle this, please._

He seemed to comprehend what I was mentally screaming at him and relaxed. "Yes it's me," I replied and shook the bush closest to me. "I'm just… you know. Everything alright?"

Officer Dyce cleared his throat and I glanced over my shoulder. I couldn't see clearly through the grass and the bushes, but I thought I saw him turn around.

"Eh, you… dropped your weapon. I'll let it be," he said awkwardly and made a little cough. "Do you need anything? Does Sergeant Somerset need anything?"

I blushed even though I was putting up an act, realizing that I would never be able to talk to him in person anymore. _Shut it, Melissa. You just saved a man's life and you're complaining about something like _that.

"No, I believe we are alright," I answered and turned my gaze towards Connor. He was calm and I felt relieved. _I succeeded_. "But do you perhaps know where the soldier outside our tent—"

I never got to finish the sentence when the Assassin stood up and lunged towards Officer Dyce. The latter didn't even have the time to pull out his sword before Connor pushed his palm against the man's chest and caught the limp body before it hit the ground. He quickly backed into the brush, dragging the dead officer with him, and threw him down the slope.

My mind clouded with anger as I rose up and aimed a hit towards Connor's face. He dodged it and gripped my arm by the place where my two main bones connected, just above my elbow, and rendered it useless. I tried to pull away by faking another hit, but he saw through me and blocked it.

"Why?" I exclaimed and stared at Officer Dyce's rolling body that disappeared into the forest. "He believed me and wouldn't have done anything. _Why_?"

"I was going to let you convince him," he muttered and our eyes locked. "I wasn't going to kill him, but then you ruined everything by asking where the other soldier was."

My breath in my throat as I understood; Connor had disposed of the guard outside the tent.

"Don't tell me…" I paused as he guiltily looked away. "Why do you do this? Why did you become an assassin? You're nothing like the boy I met for so long time ago… who are you?" _And why do I feel for you?_

"Go back to your tent and stay there," he simply said and shrugged off my hand from his shoulder. "If you follow me, I can't guarantee that nobody will see you."

I swallowed and took a step back, scared what he might do.

"Will you hurt me?"

His hazelnut-colored eyes turned to me and they were both sad and angry.

"Never," he replied quietly then shook his head. "Not you. I don't know why you're here and why our paths always cross, but be sure that I would never harm you in any way."

"What's the difference between me and those soldiers you kill?" I snapped, too infuriated to blush. "What? That I'm a woman?"

He shook his head again.

"No, Melissa." Connor paused. "Just go now… I have something I must finish."

"I know you are a true Assassin."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And I know who you are," he answered, making my blood run cold. "And no, I still won't kill you."

I backed off a couple of steps and felt the edge of the knife beneath my foot. He silently watched me as I crouched to pick it up.

"I-I…" I soaked my lips and took a deep breath. "_I hate you_."

_Does he really think himself so superior above everyone else? Is it why he's treating me like a little child? Huh, I _never_ was a child in the first place_, I thought and slowly I felt my hatred become real, engulfing everything else. _Just because he probably lived with both of his parents and had a happy childhood. Can't he understand that so many others like me are suffering? And he ignorantly goes around killing people, never even once considering to let them live. He must've destroyed the lives of so many… what a monster._

"Go kill him, do what you think you must do," I continued as he didn't reply. "I can't stop you, you're too strong for me; I can't even convince you, can I?"

"No," he said and looked away. "I have to do this. The Templars are nothing but a gruesome association of corrupted men, seeking to eradicate whatever resistance they're met with. It's not right and you know it."

"Oh, and since when did the Assassins become the 'good' side?" I quickly answered and crossed my arms over my chest. "You run around, killing innocent people doing their everyday job. Do you think every soldier wanted to become one? Of course not, they surely had their dreams before this stupid war started! Some of them aren't even _twenty_. How does it feel to kill someone who has at least a third of their lives left?"

"We're going to draw attention." Connor surveyed the encampment behind me, but realized that the tents were hiding us and relaxed. "I don't have time to talk about what's right and wrong but this is something I need to do."

"_Why_?" I asked once again. He had been evading the question over and over again and I was getting tired of it. "Why do you focus the Templars? After Mr. Pitcairn, there will only be three left." _Four, with me_.

He opened his mouth to answer when he stiffened and his gaze shot to my left. I glanced behind me and saw Sergeant Somerset limping out of his tent, armed with a musket. His intelligent eyes analyzed the situation in front of him and he aimed the gun towards Connor.

"You again," he said calmly. "Melissa, back off, that man is dangerous."

_Like I wouldn't know_. "You woke up?" I asked a bit startled. "I thought you had succumbed to your wounds."

"Amusing as usual I see." The sergeant pulled back his hair. "I miss the hat; it kept my hair in place. I see you got me promoted as well."

I sighed and rolled my eyes at him.

"Go back to sleep, I can handle this."

"It's… _you_."

Connor's confused voice got my attention but I didn't have the time to ask what he meant when Sergeant Somerset pulled the trigger. The sound made it ring in my ears and I grimaced, but quickly collected myself.

"Damn, I missed."

"Could you please explain what's going on?" I almost screamed and turned to see that the Assassin had escaped. "How do you know him?"

Sergeant Somerset let out a little groan as he buried the edge of the rifle into the ground.

"To make a long story short; I know your sister."

I almost thought I was dreaming. But then, I would never dream about _him_.

"W-what?" I stammered and approached him. "What did you say?" _Is he mad? My sister… she… she died in the fire…_

"You heard me." Our eyes locked. "Your sister is alive."


	24. Chapter 5:4

**Chapter 5:4**

_1765, May 4th_

"_Come on, just kill it."_

_I shook my head and backed away. I couldn't._

"_Whatever; I knew you wouldn't do it."_

_I furiously rubbed away the tears trickling down my face and she started giggling. She put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a little push towards the dying animal._

"_Are you just going to stand and watch it suffer? Some person you are, Mel."_

"_It's not me who's forcing someone else to kill a puppy," I spat and sniffled. The stench from the half-dead animal made it turn in my stomach. "Just kill it, _please_."_

_She gave me a smug smile before penetrating the skull of the poor little beast with a slim dagger. It finally died, but not before it gave up another whimper of excruciating pain. I felt the rush of nausea and put a hand over my mouth._

"_How did you even find it?" I wondered as she dried her blade on the puppy's mahogany-colored fur. "It looks like someone bullied it into frenzy, and then let it bite a blunt weapon."_

"_You're very observant, aren't you, little Mel?"_

_I shrugged as she turned her gaze towards me. My dark blue eyes met her yellow and black orbs and she grinned widely._

"_But I guess you always were," she said and hid her dagger in a bag. "It's a shame that you're seven years my junior; maybe you and I would have some _real _fun if things were different."_

"_Lilian? Melissa? Let's head home now!"_

"_Yes, Celia." Lilian gave me a little pat on the head. "We had enough for today, right, _sister_?"_

I never thought about why my sister always called my mother by her first name. It had always been that way and I didn't even once put together two and two, to realize that my father, James Hamilton, had been married to another woman at first before having an affair with my mother, Celia Rawling. He was found out by his daughter and when she told her weak-hearted mother, the woman took her own life. My father decided to marry; he wanted to unite his new family and start all over again. After some lovemaking, they got me – and that's when the opportunity to move to the New World was given to my father. He was a rich businessman, famous for his quality silk, and my mother belonged to a grand family that owned the largest trading company in England. There were no economic problems but Lilian refused. My mother was a kind soul and even though my "sister" tormented her, she never even once considered giving Lilian away to an orphanage, nor discriminated her in any way. She even tried to bond with her, but to no avail; Lilian's mind was set.

She was a very pretty girl, with blond wavy hair that reached to her waist and never seemed to tangle. I remember that she used to let me play with it and taught me to braid it. Her eyes were odd though, as one was black and piercing as the night and the other yellow as a cat's. My sister was tall and slim, moving with an aristocratic grace, and was always complimented by people. She was kind to me – most of the time – but I could never really put my finger on her. Some days she was eccentric and impossible to reach, while she was a sweet, loving girl on others.

Lilian was a really special girl... that is, when I thought she was dead.


	25. Chapter 5:5

**Chapter 5:5**

_1775, June 17th_

"We're part of an association called the Judicators—"

"I don't have time for listening to any more of your lies, sergeant," I interrupted and pushed him aside. "We have to warn Mr. Pitcairn."

He grabbed my upper arm and forced me around. Our eyes locked and I glared at Sergeant Somerset, furiously trying to make him let go of me.

"You have to listen, I'm sorry for—"

"For what?" I hissed and pointed behind me. "You better be sorry for not letting me go to Mr. Pitcairn; every second you're losing me, the more time you're giving Connor."

He averted his gaze from mine and I realized that it was exactly what he was planning.

"Let me go," I said and tried to sound as threatening as I could. "I won't hesitate in attacking you. _Back off_." _He's surely already killing everyone… even Mr. Pitcairn. If only I could stop him, if only I was as powerful as Master Kenway._

Sergeant Somerset shook his head and his grip around my arm tightened.

"I can't, those are not my orders," he answered and raised his weapon, aiming the gun barrel at me. "Stay."

I immediately came to a roll, pulling his wounded body after me, and flipped him onto his back. He fired the musket and the bullet barely missed my shoulder. I rose up as quickly as I could and kicked away the rifle, rendering him defenseless. With a loud grunt of pain, he tried to get up on his knees, but I pushed him towards the ground with my right foot.

"Now please, keep quiet and stop getting in my way," I said, even scaring myself how cold and emotionless I sounded. "I don't care about my sister; what I care so far, she can burn in hell."

_I don't believe it, she can't be alive,_ I thought and stiffly walked away from the sergeant. He was clawing at the ground and making loud groans, but he couldn't get up. _He's lying, he must be… but then, who told him about my sister? So far as I know, I never told anyone but my aunt and…_

"Please…"

Sergeant Somerset slowly turned his face towards me and his emerald-green eyes were sorrowful but serious.

"Melissa, listen to me, I'm sorry for all this but—"

"Major Pitcairn!"

_Private Addison._

My instincts took over and I charged towards the main area of the camp. Hurrying down the slope, I almost slipped over some horse feces, but I instantly regained my balance and slid under a fence. The scene in front of me was horrifying beyond measure.

It wasn't the smell. It wasn't the dying men or their vain attempts at trying to fight the Assassin. It wasn't the blood covering the ground around him, or his spotless clothes. Neither was it his stern, hazelnut-colored gaze nor his soaked weapons.

It was the fact that no matter how much I wanted to deny it, how much I tried to push it away from me – _how much I forced myself to believe else_ – I was allured by him and saw him as a _good man_. He was so immensely powerful and invincible in close quarters, completely outstanding in combat, and where he stood in front of me, he looked stunningly attractive.

And that's what scared me the most. Because no matter what my mind imagined – no matter what past the two of us had shared – the truth was harsh: he was a murderer but not just an ordinary killer – he was an Assassin, an enemy of the Templars and therefore an enemy of mine, someone who needed to be dealt with. Soon.

Sharp blades protruded from the inner side of his forearm protection and dark drops of sanguine liquid fell towards the grass underneath his feet. With a metallic sound and a smooth movement of his hands, the shiny steel disappeared into his clothes. None of us had said anything or even made a sound, but it wasn't necessary. We were like two different animals, analyzing its opponent to see whether he or she would make a move or not. I broke the silence first.

"Did you kill everyone?"

To my surprise, I sounded neutral and my voice held.

"Not everyone."

_He's joking_, I understood and was shocked. _How could someone be _joking_ just after killing so many people?_

_But wasn't that what your teacher did the day after the massacre in Boston? That winter night where so many men, women, _children_ died. You said you would never forget it but you did, right Melissa?_

I angrily brushed the thought aside and took a step closer to him.

"What are you trying to do?" I demanded to know not realizing until now that I was unarmed. I ignored the fear bubbling up my chest and continued. _He said he wouldn't hurt me… and I believe him. _"Why are you targeting the Templars? What's your goal?"

Was I perhaps naïve or foolish when I thought I could ask him whatever I wanted? That it was my right to know everything about him and why he acted like he did. Any normal being would have probably run long time ago, as far away as one could, but here I stood against an Assassin, a true master of death – and I was fearless. I felt safe with him. I don't know how I can explain, but somehow I felt connected with him. My attraction for him was probably a bit immature but I simply couldn't resist him.

"That has nothing to do with you," he quietly replied and bent down over a body. Connor exchanged a couple of words on a strange language and then rose up. "You have to stay out of this, Melissa. This is not a life for you."

I looked at the lifeless body of Mr. Pitcairn and froze. The elderly Templar's face was ashen and his expression was of disappointment.

"Who are you to tell me what I'm to do?" I exclaimed and watched as he hid a letter inside his uniform jacket. "You know nothing of me."

The Assassin sighed but a little smile curved the left corner of his mouth upwards. He pulled his hood higher over his head and hid his eyes completely.

"That's true," Connor said and turned to me. I tried to distinguish his expression but his face was too shaded. "But you are not my enemy and I don't kill innocents."

"These soldiers are _innocent_," I stubbornly answered and gestured around me. "Murderers like you and I are the monsters in this world."

He shook his head and adjusted his leather gloves.

"Wrong, I'm killing for the greater good." Connor paused and approached a nearby corpse. He picked up his tomahawk and sheathed at his side. "We've been through this already. I must protect my people… and have my revenge."

With those words, he took off into the forest and I saw him vaulting over a large rock before vanishing from my view. I didn't even bother trying to follow him; my attempts would be in vain and probably just amuse him. I sighed heavily and my eyes filled with tears of frustration.

_So much happening... I need someone to talk to – it feels like my head is going to explode – I need— _My eyes widened as I realized what I was missing, or rather _who_. _I need Alex. I need him. I can't do this all alone._

I hadn't even noticed when I fell to my knees. Damp, muddy grass mixed with blood and intestines etched onto my borrowed clothes but it didn't bother me at all compared to how problematic my life was for the moment. It felt like wherever I went, Death came stalking and took away everyone around me. If only Death wasn't so bloody marvelous at fighting and so _handsome_, I might have been able to handle it but this just urged me across the line. I felt like I was crumbling inside; I couldn't stop Connor from killing all these people with neither proper words nor resistance and it was like torture to endure and watch so many good men _die_. And still a little voice inside of my head told me that he was right in his own perspective, as the Templars did the same. Everything created more and more confusing thoughts and questions, making me so torn. Who was right? And who was wrong?

_I guess we will see at the end of this spectacle_, I thought and suddenly grinned. _When every secret is revealed and I, I may finally see the truth. Let's hope I survive until then._

* * *

**A/E.N:**

**Slightly darker Melissa, I know, but I wanna make her become more mature now. She's fifteen at this chapter, growing up in a too harsh of a reality. I know that some of you guys may think she's a bit too "old" and has been all the while, but think about it: her life is a mirroring of Connor and nobody thinks of that :3**


	26. Chapter 6:1

**A/N:**

**I was busy due to helping my brother pack and etc… so now he's gone. No difference really ^^'**

**I've fixed small edits and added these dates now, I hope it will help a bit in the timeline of the story from now on.**

* * *

**Chapter 6:1**

_1776, June 26th_

My lower lip quivered in suppressed fear when I reached the bedroom door. I slowly etched my fingers onto the old doorknob and took a deep breath.

_You can do this. Just explain yourself and he'll forgive you_, I thought in an attempt to calm myself down. _It was all just a stupid mistake and your foolishness, Melissa_.

As I opened the door to Alex's room – with my heart beating so fast that I thought I would pass out – I felt the mechanism work beneath my touch and I stumbled into his sanctuary.

"You came awfully quick today, what's the—"

His green-gray eyes locked with mine and widened in shock. He rose up from his chair so abruptly that it was knocked into the dark, wooden floor with a loud slam. We stood like petrified for several seconds before we both blurted out our excuses.

"Alex, I'm so horribly sorry—"

"Melissa…? Is it really you?"

I nodded several times and his otherwise so very soft eyes hardened with anger. Realizing that I had forgotten why I really was there, I cleared my throat and straightened. He regarded me coldly while I shamefully averted my gaze.

"Did you receive any of my letters during the year that has passed?" I asked as he picked up the chair and checked the floor for any ugly marks, nodding meanwhile. "Why haven't you answered then?" I wondered and tried to restrain my sudden lash of irritation.

"Why should I?" he replied coolly and placed the chair in front of him. Alex sat down on it, resting his chest towards the backrest, and looked at me expressionless. "I'm a dead man to you, ain't I? Give me one good reason to write a single note to _you_."

His word struck deep and I instinctively took a step back, my face blossoming with a deep, red color. My already fast-paced heart pounded harder and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Alex…" My voice broke and I swallowed. "Did you at least read them?"

He nonchalantly leaned towards his desk and took a pile of gently folded paper into his left hand and put them in his lap. His slender fingers randomly picked up a sheet and held it in front of him, covering his face as he read aloud.

"'19th of June, 1775 – Dear Alex, I can barely look at my reflection. I'm terribly sorry for what I said and you know that anger blinded me; I would've never even spoken such words to anybody, least of all you. You know I care for you the most – as well as Auntie of course – so please hear me out: I was wrong to blame you for stealing the letter. I just arrived at home from the Battle of Bunker Hill and found the letter I had addressed to you in my jacket at home. It seems as though I sent you the envelope containing what Mr. Kenway had written to Mr. Pitcairn, instead of what I wrote myself'."

"'I'm so damned sorry; you can't imagine how miserable I feel presently due to my wrong accusations. I should've listened to you, I really should have'…" he finished and I couldn't take it anymore. My knees buckled beneath me and gravity dragged me to the ground.

"I hope you read the rest as well," I said and clenched my fists. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_. "And all the letters I sent after that first one."

"I certainly did. But did it make me feel any less _dead_?"

I sighed heavily and in my last, desperate attempt to make him accept my apologies, I put my forehead to the floor in a begging motion.

"I have a lot of explaining to do," I continued, my voice muffled by my hair. "First, I must probably tell you that I belong to a secret society, a group of men and women all over the world who are striving for a better tomorrow. We're the Templars and have been in feud with another organization for thousands of years. These _others_ are called Assassin's and are, with the word's whole purport, assassins. Cold-blooded murderers."

"I know."

I dared myself to rise up and met Alex's neutral expression. He didn't even blink as I hesitantly placed my hands on each side of his face and ghosted my fingers along his familiar features.

"I'm sorry for everything," I said, glad that my voice held. "I've lied all these years but I won't continue any longer. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Alex was silent for long. He simply held my gaze with an unreadable expression and I felt colder with every moment passing by. Then it suddenly struck me: he had replied with "I know".

"What did you mean by earlier?" I asked carefully and pulled away from him. "'I know'," I mimicked and held back my suspiciousness. _This is not the time for quick conclusions. That's what put me here in the first place._

Now it was his turn to feel uneasy; I immediately saw how he recoiled to my question and worry consumed his countenance. Alex soaked his lips and opened his mouth to answer when we both heard the knocking on the door. He made a movement to rise but stopped halfway as our eyes locked.

"Who is that?" I wondered and stepped aside as he went for the door. I followed him to the hallway and my heart skipped a beat.

A slender creation of femininity stood outside the house, politely greeting Alex with his first name. Her hair was golden, lush and wavy, and reached all the way down to her tiny waist. She was wearing a lovely forest-green dress with intricate details and long, delicate sleeves; I immediately recognized the work to be of Alex's father and the garment was definitely something he had put a lot of effort into.

My eyes traced up to her face and to my embarrassment, I actually felt relieved as I saw the emerald-colored band of fabric – also skillfully embroidered – around her head, covering her eyes and part of her nose. The beautiful stranger was _blind_.

"Hello? Alex, is that you? You told me I could come over today."

Her voice was light and melodic, sounding so innocent and pure, and she spoke fluent American English. I felt bad once again for my earlier relaxation but shrugged it off as quickly as I could. _Who is this girl? She must be Alex's age._

Alex didn't reply and glanced at me. I nodded, feeling apologetic for intruding his appointment with the woman and he nodded back. His voice was normal as he saluted her but I could sense a small strain of anger and irritation creeping into his tone.

"Elizabeth." He reached out for her and helped her inside. I saw that she was holding an elegant, black cane in her right hand and slowly moved it from left to right in front of her. Guessing that it was what she used to "see", I hastily backed away from her and Alex, feeling empathic due to her loss of sight.

"Is there somebody else here? Your friend Harry?" Elizabeth suddenly asked and stiffened. "I thought I heard something."

My eyes widened in shock that she had been able to intercept the sound of my footsteps and stared at Alex. He met my gaze and raised his right eyebrow in a silent question. _May I?_

Nodding, I took a step towards the pretty, young woman and took her left hand in mine.

"Yes, my friend is here, but not Harry," Alex answered and I shook her fragile hand, saying: "Hello, I'm Melissa, but you can call me Mel."

Elizabeth shone up in a bright smile, showing a perfect set of teeth white as the pearls I saw in the jewelry shop on my way to Alex's home. She answered my handshake with fervor and giggled.

"Yeah, Alex told me everything about you." Elizabeth's smile widened. "And as much as I've told him not to call me Elizabeth, he stubbornly continues. You on the other hand, may please call me Liz."

I awkwardly remained on the place where I stood, too shy to take a step back but too dumbfounded to come up with a quick answer. My eyes nervously flickered to find comfort with Alex but he was smiling widely, his intelligent eyes examining "Liz's" every move. A stab of envy struck my heart and I started feeling uncomfortable. _Would he look at someone else with such interest if I hadn't wrongly accused him in the first place? God, what have I done?_

"A-Alright." I swallowed and dropped her hand as if she had burned me. "I better move on, Liz—it was nice to meet you."

"No, please stay," she insisted and took my hand in hers again. I stared at her in disbelief again; _how did she know where my hand was?_ "I would love to talk to you. Alex told me how incredible of a person you are and I would really like to—"

I brusquely shoved her away, feeling oddly _scared_ with her ability to see even though she impossibly could, but also what she was claiming: Alex had apparently told her everything about me. What exactly was "everything"?

_She's faking_, I thought as I walked towards the front door. _But how? How does_ anyone_ see through that thick fabric? Is she psychic? Or a good listener? Enhanced? … An _Assassin?

"I'm sorry but I must go, I have an appointment with…" I ranted and quickly headed out of Mr. Smith's – Alex's father – home and shop. "… My friend. Yes, a friend."

Alex gave me a confused gaze and I bit my lower lip. _I'm not done apologizing, but I can't do that when she's here. Elizabeth… _that woman_ frightens_ _me. _"Next time, Alex," I said and gleefully bid the two of them goodbye, bouncing out of the store.

That is, when I thought I could leave with some glory. But as I stepped out on the dirty, cobbled street, I was brutally knocked aside by a sprinting man. I recognized him immediately: Thomas Hickey, a Templar and a man loyal to Master Kenway. His panicking eyes lighted up as he identified me as well, but he didn't have the time to say anything before another man passed me by.

I knew who it was even before I saw the back of his white hood. I knew it as soon as I had seen Mr. Hickey.

People around me watched in mixed emotions as Connor aimed a blow towards the Templar's head. Mr. Hickey – it really was with utter disgust that I called him "sir" or "mister" as he hardly was a man of honor – avoided the attack with unexpected grace and sent his own fist flying. As I knew he would, the Assassin parried it with a dancelike move and pushed Mr. Hickey into the exterior of Alex's home. The Templar hit the wall with a loud slam but the white-hooded Iroquoian followed up his movement and gripped the collar of Mr. Hickey's shirt, shoving him into the house again.

"Be still – you will do no more harm."

His dark, almost soothing voice was making my stomach flutter and I tried to focus on something else. _Whatever but his voice._

The strength of the Assassin was impressive; he could lift a full-grown man off the ground and render him unmovable. I slowly approached the two combatants and vaguely heard someone calling for guards.

It sounded like Mr. Hickey slurred due to his extremely sloppy dialect and now more, loud voices were heard, distracting my ability to hear. Connor was speaking with a low voice, the duo exchanging what they had to say in bitter tones, and soon a group of guards split them apart.

"You are both under arrest!"

A guard pulled away the Assassin with ease and I realized that the latter didn't want to harm someone doing his regular job. _Maybe he finally listened to me, _I thought, surprisingly delighted at what I saw.

The guards were three and one of them was holding a heavy, sand-colored sac. Mr. Hickey glanced at it and blurted out his foolish excuses. I had never understood why my teacher kept the stupid, muscle-brained _idiot_ – sorry for my language – around, and watching him explain that he and Connor was having an "old-fashioned fight" almost made me want to laugh. I made a mental note to myself to ask Master Kenway as soon as an opportunity showed itself.

"Quiet!" snapped the Assassin angrily and under his hood, I could see him furiously creasing his dark brows. "What are the charges?"

"Counterfeiting," claimed the guard holding the bag. He opened it up and grinned. "Lots of it, I see."

"I had nothing to do with that," replied Connor immediately and he sounded honest.

"'Course not," said the third guard scornfully, crossing his arms. The bearded man mockingly looked at the Assassin as well as Mr. Hickey. "But these are overwhelming proofs."

"Listen, there are more important things at stake here," answered the Iroquoian quickly and his expression was upset. "This man is planning to—"

The first guard silenced him with a baton, hitting the back of the Assassin's head, and the latter fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound was sickening.

"Are you alright, Melissa?" asked a familiar voice.

"Thomas," another sighed.

I didn't realize that I had been staring at the fight – completely dazed – and hastily shook my head, turning to face Mr. Kenway and Mr. Lee as they stood right behind me. My teacher watched the scenery in front of him unfold with an inquisitive look on his noble features. His hazelnut-colored eyes focused intensely on the unconscious Assassin, then nodded at his fellow Templar and dear friend Mr. Lee.

"S-sirs…" I stammered and gave them a polite bow. "I think we got him, finally."

* * *

**A/E.N:**

**School started today and seeing that I gotta tend to my education as well as my favorite hobby, I think imma either reduce the speed of which I'm able to post these chapters and make them a lot longer (I'm talking about writing for a whole week then post one uberlong chapter) or update infrequently due to my inability to see the future and check what my teachers are planning ._.**

**Let me know what you prefer!**


	27. Chapter 6:2

**Chapter 6:2**

_1776, June 26__th_

"We're here. Just lay him down and leave. Take away the other one."

The two guards carrying the slumped shape of Connor hurried to obey Master Kenway's commands and the other duo, restraining the furious Mr. Hickey, nodded and bowed politely. My teacher waited for them to leave the dirty, aged – and very cramped – prison cell until the only remaining people were us: three Templars and the unconscious Assassin. I didn't know what Mr. Kenway was going to do with Connor, if he was going to murder him and put an end to the killings, but he seemed indifferent in front of his sworn enemy. Almost relaxed.

"What are you going to do, sir?" asked Mr. Lee all of a sudden, obviously struck uncomfortable due to the lingering silence since the guards had departed with Mr. Hickey. "He's the enemy; shouldn't we simply kill him?"

His last sentence made me feel oddly frightened and I realized to my own horror that I didn't want Connor to die. Shaking my head in disbelief, trying to get myself to think clearly, I came up with an objection to Mr. Lee's cause. _I'm not doing this for _him_… It's wrong to kill unnecessarily._

"But it would surely look better to let him go unharmed, sir," I protested and looked up at my teacher. His once dark, well-kempt hair was now after a decade of knowing him, graying in an increasingly rapid pace. It was still groomed probably every day and his coiffure had never even once changed during the many years, but age was clearly taking its toll on Mr. Kenway. I didn't even want to imagine how heartbroken I would be when he died, no less if I bore witness to it. "As an act of mercy," I continued and waved my hand in an attempt to gain his attention. "Just send him off with a warning and remind Mr. Davenport what compassion the Templars possess. I'm sure he'll be more than glad to accept our terms."

"Melissa—"started Mr. Lee but Master Kenway cut him off.

"Fair enough," replied the leader of the Templars and my mentor. "But we did show mercifulness when Reginald decided not to eradicate every Assassin here, and see what consequences his choice made: two faithful brothers have already fallen and I'm sure that the rest of us are on his list as well." Our eyes locked and he sighed. "Yes, that also includes you, Melissa," he added quickly.

His words stung as I had grown more than accustomed to having Mr. Pitcairn around, his kind and fatherly way of speaking to his soldiers and subordinates, as well as that he had been a very honorable man. I was proud to have known him, but nonetheless felt a thousandfold more like a traitor for what my mind and body hosted for his murderer. Because that was the truth; I had felt something for Connor ever since we were children, ever since I saw him.

I snorted. _Irony is such a bittersweet delicacy and as of late, I've tasted too much of it. It's almost like God wants to punish me for a crime I haven't committed – or at least it feels like such is the case. _"But to offer another chance can impossibly be wrong, right, sir?" I wondered and tried to control my voice. "Only a complete blockhead would commit an error again. That man," I said and pointed at the Assassin, "is definitely not an idiot and neither is Achilles. They'll stay away, I promise."

The two men looked at me in surprise and Mr. Kenway recovered the quickest, approaching me with a worried expression. We silently watched each other before he spoke and the admonition in his voice was unmistakable.

"Child, you are so naïve," he answered and put his hand on my shoulder, slowly shaking his head from side to side. "Charles." This was obviously aimed towards Mr. Lee who immediately straightened and made a courteous bow. "I want you to run to the town hall and spread the rumor that someone is seeking to assassinate George Washington. The suspect has been caught but he has yet to be interrogated."

"Yes, sir, anything else to add except that? Any special details of any sort?" asked my teacher's most loyal man and right hand. Mr. Charles Lee was – if anyone – the only person whom Master Kenway could fully rely on and trust with uttermost secrets. Similarities between the black-haired man and I were that we both shared the same mentor and been taught to think, fight and _adapt_ by the same man.

"No," said Mr. Kenway and started walking out of the stone-walled prison cell. I made the movement to follow him when he objected with a gesture of his hand. "You stay. Someone needs to undress him and take away his weapons; I don't trust any of the guards here, one never truly knows if they're rebels or not."

"I-I am to do what, exactly?" I wondered, stuttering the words as I spoke. "_Undress_ him, sir?"

He nodded and threw an observant glance at the Assassin. "I doubt he'll awaken, the guard gave him quite a hit."

_I don't care about if he might wake up,_ I thought irritably. _But how will I explain?_ "Sir, do I really have to?" I asked.

"Yes. Charles is going to talk to some important people and I am going to share a couple of words with the warden operating this place. We cannot let him escape and Thomas must be released."

"Don't worry," said Mr. Lee and gave me a reassuring smile. "I'll hurry back as soon as possible."

Mr. Kenway waved the other Templar to his side and they exited in silence, leaving me alone with Connor. The guards from earlier had simply thrown him onto the cold ground, face down, and I shuddered in disgust as my eyes locked onto unidentifiable discoloration, here and there. I could vaguely smell something rotten from one of the corners of the room and traced the source of the stench to an old, rusty bucket lying overturned. An empty mattress was seemingly the only other furniture every prisoner got and I looked about in utter disrelish; I had never before visited a prison but these were horrible conditions. Not a wonder why so many people died waiting for their judgment.

As I quickly peeked out of the prison cell to check if I was alone there, I found a pail of water right outside the small room, next to a wobbly chair. On the mentioned wooden seat, rested some relatively clean clothes and I took all of it under my right arm and carried in the water as well.

_Okay, you can do this_.

I crouched next to him and – after a certain moment of hesitation – turned him over. It was a heavy work but I soon managed to drag him upright, with his back towards the muddy wall.

_Doesn't seem like they clean here even once a month_, I thought and sniffed suspiciously. _Or well, not even once a year judging by this smell. This is horrid._

"Ugh…"

I jumped in surprise as the Assassin regained consciousness and grunted something that sounded like a curse. He pushed back the white hood covering his countenance and revealed his face. Dark, hazelnut-colored eyes squinted in pain as he grimaced and touched the back of his head. Blood and filth were smeared into his exotic clothes and soiled his Iroquoian features. Without thinking, I searched my pockets for something I could use to wet and clean his face with, and luckily enough found a handkerchief.

"Take it easy," I mumbled and soaked the piece of cloth. "You are – for the moment – safe."

He seemed to have recognized my voice immediately as his eyes widened in shock.

"Melissa…" Connor furrowed his brows and then exhaled. "Ah yes, you're one of them."

I tried not to flinch as he finished his sentence and carefully placed the wet handkerchief on his cheek. "Don't blame it on that. Nobody of them would even think about hurting a girl," I said in defense. "They're good people."

"They are murderers."

"They are doing what they have to do," I corrected irritably with a loud voice and cleared my throat. "Excuse me, that was rude to claim. You do, after all, not care about a single word I say, so why waste my breath?"

It was cruel of me to imply an insult like that and I tried to soften my words by gently wiping away all of the dirt from his left cheek. He made no protests even as I unintentionally rubbed the cloth into an open wound and made it bleed again. During the whole process of me patching him up, he remained silent and easily manageable, and it wasn't until when I made the motion to confiscate his weapons, he reacted with lightning speed. I didn't even have the time to react before he had me pushed up against the wall, breathless and slightly dizzy due to the incredibly quick movement.

"Don't."

His face was just a couple of inches away from mine and his voice was cold as steel, warning me once again. My body was locked to the stone-wall and I couldn't move. Rough, callused hands straightened my arms by my wrists and stretched them as far as my body allowed, locking them in a cross above my head.

"Don't touch my weapons."

_How did he… _"Let me go," I snarled and tried to get out of his grip. The situation was as familiar as two years ago but I felt more helpless than ever. So close to me, I could feel the warmth of his muscular body and the faintest smell of the ocean. "Don't take me so lightly. I'll scream if you try to do something," I continued and aimed a kick towards his leg. He easily evaded the attack and effortlessly pinned me down. Our eyes locked and every breath quieted.

Even though Connor had promised to never bestow any harm upon me, I was more than certain that he would kill me right there. On one of my many conversations with Mr. Lee, he had revealed that Mr. Kenway always wore a pair of hidden blades, which of course was one of the attributes of an Assassin. Though I never heard of how they fell into my master's possession the facts were clear: Haytham Kenway knew the ways of the Assassins and it wouldn't surprise me if he was familiar with the Creed as well. Thinking about the old memory made me painfully aware of that I might die to just those weapons. I would never be able to ask my teacher how exactly he became the man he is today; a question I had mused during all these years knowing him.

To my surprise, Connor chuckled amusedly and shook his head. "Do I scare you?" he asked softly and held my gaze.

"No," I answered honestly. "I'm not frightened by you."

He raised his right eyebrow in a silent question. _Are you sure? _I nodded and he gave me the crooked smile I had seen ever since we both were children. "An open invitation, I see."

Before my mind could even process what he had said, the Assassin lowered his head towards mine and kissed me, gently.

It felt like I was struck by lightning, an emotion so fierce in intensity and power that I felt paralyzed, almost numb. The feeling of his soft lips caressing mine was breathtaking, beautiful and utterly stunning. I shattered beneath his grip of me and fell into a dark abyss of nothingness; his kiss made me experience everything and nothing at the same time. It was… _magical_.


	28. Chapter 6:3

**Chapter 6:3**

_1776, June 26th_

Our bodies crushed against each other, eliminating whatever air that might have separated us, and I greedily clung to his shirt, letting my hands travel down his well-defined muscles. His hands tangled into my hair and I mirrored his movement, without even realizing that I was. Pulling away for just a flicker of a second, he smiled slightly and gave me a moment to breathe. I was, to my embarrassment, panting slightly and I could feel that the color of my cheeks were scarlet. But even though I was shy, I pushed myself upwards to meet his lips again. He had initiated the kiss but I wanted to be the one finishing it, and kissed him with fervor.

_It feels so strange, kissing him_, I mused, feeling how my strength and willpower slipped away inch by inch in the arms of the Assassin. _It feels incredible but so unfathomably treasonous; I'm betraying everything I stand for when I listen to my heart. But how can something so wrong be what I desire the most? How can life be so cruel and mankind so vain?_

I wanted to push him away, hit him straight across his jaw and scream something utterly inappropriate, maybe even take his sword – the handle was poking me very uncomfortably at my side, almost like it was mocking me to take it – and attack him, but _I couldn't_;my fingers avariciously clawed at his neck and shoulders, bringing him even closer to me. And even though his touch made my heart flutter in the most incredible way, making me feel like I could do _anything,_ the facts struck me like a hard punch in the stomach. _He's the enemy. Why are you kissing him? _I felt sick and horrified that I was enjoying the kiss but still not, and my whole mind rioted, screaming at me to stop whatever foolishness I was implementing.

I was awaken from my reverie by his gentle voice. "Melissa," he breathed and caressed my cheek with his fingers. He was so careful, almost like I was made of the world's most expensive porcelain. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

His words should have shocked me but I knew that he was speaking the truth. I nodded but only barely, since our faces were just a hair's breadth from each other. I could smell his blood.

"I know," I whispered and placed my hand over his, intertwining my fingers into his. "You really shouldn't have done that." Our foreheads touched. "It's wrong."

"What is wrong?"

Even though my eyes were closed, I could hear his smile and couldn't resist the pulling; the corners of my mouth curved upwards and I giggled. "You and I. We. Us," I replied teasingly, not knowing where my flirty side came from. "I guess English isn't your strongest side."

Connor huffed but before he was able to come up with a reply, we were interrupted by someone else.

"Stand still; from this distance I can impossibly miss."

It felt like my body froze to ice. _That is a voice I am familiar with too well._

"Who are you?" asked the Assassin and backed away from me, sounding like he didn't know who the soldier was, but covered me with his body. "What do you want from me?"

"Who's the girl behind you?" wondered the inturder, his voice suddenly worried. I couldn't see past Connor since he held me down against the wall, rendering me unmovable. "I'm not the blind one."

"_I'm not the blind one"_, I repeated in my mind. _Why does that sound familiar?_

"Let her go," answered Connor sternly and his grip around my arm tightened. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Well, I actually do," I said and ignored the glare I got. Connor looked at me across his shoulder and his eyes clearly told me to stay quiet but I knew that Sergeant Somerset had recognized my voice already.

"Melissa, is that you?"

Connor's eyes widened in surprise and I took the opportunity to wrestle myself out of his grip. Taking two quick steps forward, I stared into the gun barrel of a flintlock pistol, and my breath caught in my throat.

The sergeant was dressed in clothes normal for a soldier of his rank, but the only missing thing was his hat. A long, ugly cut marked his otherwise handsome features, dividing his left eyebrow into two, and the wound traced itself all the way down to his jawline. Sergeant Somerset seemed slightly out of himself, something was unruly and _wrong_ in his gaze. He frowned as our eyes locked and covered the damaged part of his face with his hand.

"S-sergeant," I stammered and ignored his gun. "What has happened to you?" I had the courage to ask.

"A mistake," he growled and his eyes diverted to the Assassin behind me. "An error. But I was fortunately enough given the chance to reclaim my honor and here I am."

He sounded exhausted but no less angry, and I felt bad for him. "You don't have to kill him," I said slowly and tried to calm him down. "He doesn't even know you; who are you to kill another man?"

"I'm a Judicator," he snapped and then looked at me. "I do what's best for the course of history, something my organization have done since the beginning of time. Damn you Assassins and Templars, fighting all over the world with only one simplistic goal. To 'save' mankind and fight for freedom." Sergeant Somerset chuckled, unamused, and continued. "Who do you think healed the lands from the scars your wars caused? The Judicators. Without us and our righteous guidance, the world would've succumbed to chaos since long. And... I have to."

"What do I have to do with your silly businesses?"

Connor's voice was cold as ice but didn't seem to make much of an effect on the soldier. Sergeant Somerset's emerald-green eyes watched me closely as he raised his pistol towards the Assassin.

"Melissa, are you aware of how much you talk when you're asleep?" he asked me, ignoring what Connor had said, and raised a dark eyebrow.

I shook my head. "No, but thank you for informing me," I answered sarcastically and the sergeant rolled with his eyes. I didn't like what the conversation was leading to, especially not since he seemed so confident with his choice of words. _The Judicators_, I thought grimly, _a confidential association that not even the Templars knew of. Thousands of years in secrecy, sneaking around and putting things to right – why reveal themselves now?_

"You mumbled lots of things actually," he said and chuckled. "Lots of fuzzing about my looks of course," now it was my time to roll with my eyes, "but also other things. How hypocritical the Templars behaves, for an example. And your obsession with a certain Assassin."

The situation should have been too awkward for me to be able to blush, but my cheeks reddened and I averted my gaze. "You could have skipped most of what you said." _He is right, I do think that the Templars are being irrational in many cases. How can they do one thing but condemn another for doing the same?_

He shrugged. "I didn't want to exclude anything that could be of interest," he said nonchalantly and shrugged. "Especially not since your dearest will die."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked angrily, trying to stall as much time as possible for Mr. Kenway and Mr. Lee to return and to change subject. The sergeant had gotten under my skin when he mentioned what I thought about the Templars and I didn't want to know what else my big mouth might have revealed while I was asleep. "You are a good man," I continued, hoping that I could plead him into benevolence. "You saved my life, almost dying yourself, and I owe you a great deal. But I won't let you kill him." I pointed at Connor.

"'Why?' you ask?" He paused and a painful look swept across his face. "My best friend is dead because of him," he said and his voice broke. Tears started running down his face as he sobbed. _He's crumbling, finally, _I realized and all of my dislike for the black-haired soldier disappeared in an instant. _He's in sorrow and confused. _"John... he killed John and I saw it all. I saw his remnants. It was _abominable_."

I didn't know why I moved, but suddenly I took a step closer to the crying man. Something deep inside of me assured that Sergeant Somerset wouldn't pull the trigger. But then again, I seemed to have a thing for pressing my luck to the extreme.

"Hey, what are you doing?" exclaimed Connor but I ignored him and reached out for Sergeant Somerset. The Assassin's finger barely caught onto my cloak as I placed my fingers onto the soldiers.

Time seemed to stop and what felt like an eternity of deadly tension lapsed into just a couple of seconds. My instincts were right, he stiffly let me take the gun away from him and I dropped it to the floor, not even once letting go of his hand. I hurried to his side as his knees buckled beneath him, no longer able to hold his weight, and was caught into falling as well.

"Hey, I know it's hard." To my surprise I could feel something hot running down my cheeks as well. _I guess I'm crying for my own losses_, I thought bitterly. _The family I lost to the fire – and the Assassins. _"Life is hard," I continued and hugged the soldier. "But revenge will never solve anything. I, if anybody, knows that, and you should too." _It seems like I also am maturing after all._

Sergeant Somerset quietly cried and abstained from answering, but I could soon feel his arms around me as well and his nose dug into my shoulder, hiding his mourning demeanor. "William." It felt strange using his first name but I decided that I would continue to call him by that. _He's all alone here. No family, no friends and nothing but his position to rely on. He must be so very lonely._ _But what does he mean about the "blind one"? He might have something else to share while he's in this fragile state. __And does or doesn't Connor know who he is?_"We all have suffered losses but look at the people around you, look at everyone in town: does anyone dedicate their lives for vengeance? No. Nobody does. Because no matter how dark your life might be, there will always be a new dawn up ahead. And you have no excuse but to fight to get there."

The words felt oddly familiar and it took me a moment before I realized that I was quoting Alex. This was what he had told me for so many years ago, when I was nothing but a kid seeking for her assailants. I frowned and an unpleasant chill resonated through my body.

_Alex._

"So what I'm trying to state," I said, "is that life is too short to fill with hatred. You have to move on, even though you might feel alone for the moment. And... scared."

I hesitated, not knowing how Sergeant- no, _William, _would react. He intrigued me in a strange way, as he had shown such utter dislike for me and straightforward cockiness that he had outwitted me more than just a couple of times, but now lay in my arms like a child. I did feel bad for him, even though I disagreed with him most of the time. Because even though I had been through the loss of my parents, I had been supported by Alex right away. He... had guided me whenever I fell off from the right way and kept my nightmares at bay by staying up most of the nights with me, keeping me so busy thinking, talking and enjoying while perched upon the rooftops of Boston, that I was too exhausted to dream when I finally fell asleep. It was also with him I had shared my biggest secret; I had told him what scared me the most in the world.

"Melissa? What's happened here? Who's that man?"

I quickly wiped away my tears with the backside of my hand and carefully got out of William's grasp, slowly turning to face the curious expression of Mr. Charles Lee and a large group of soldiers, all of the latter heavily armed and clad in red and white. British, well-trained soldiers. "Nothing, sir," I replied quickly and gave him a polite bow with my head as the sobbing sergeant clung to me again. He was skinnier than I remembered and last time hadn't been an especially good memory to keep, seeing his ribs peek out of his torso as a soldier skilled with bandaging had ripped William's jacket and shirt off to tend to his wounds. _He must have been too sad to feel hunger, _I thought and pressed my lips together before continuing. "Sir, if you'd take over here I would be pleased."

Mr. Lee seemed to be wanting to ask me more questions but refrained. He nodded and signaled something to the guards. "Round him up; Master Kenway has decided to move his cell to the second floor."

"Yes, sir!"

I just then realized to my dismay that I hadn't unarmed Connor and that the situation would evolve into a massacre – I didn't doubt his skill even if the opponent was superior in number – and turned towards the prison cell, gasping and ready to warn the soldiers to retreat... but what I saw terrified me no less.

My heart galloped wildly as I saw how Connor didn't put up with any resistance at all. Nobody of the guards were holding any guns but he still chose not to fight. The Assassin knelt and placed his hands behind his head as the soldiers circulated him and waited for an officer to approach him. I didn't understand at first, furrowing my brows and swallowing nervously – is he planning to do something? Does he have anything planned? – as his eyes finally regarded mine.

Then I knew why.


	29. Chapter 6:4

**A/N:**

**I just realized how my story isn't especially romantic or fluffy, but kinda philosophical and very little of actual OcxConnor "action". Reason is because I don't want it to be like 80% of the stories about AC, where a young and naive girl finds her other half in our mysterious assassin, giving herself to him and his dedication, etc etc. It's not wrong in any way, of course not, but I just want to come with something _new. _I want to portray the very essential – what we fans love about this gaming series – but with a twist using my own plotline, therefore adding all these extra characters. I hope you like it and please continue to read, follow/fav and review! Feedback is as always much appreciated!**

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**Chapter 6:4**

_1776, June 28th_

Two days passed in a rush and I had no idea how to react when a furious Alex knocked on my door.

I had barely been outside, mostly occupying my time with William and trying to coax out some more information about the "Judicators" but he kept quiet about the matter. He mostly ate and slept, probably recuperating his overseen health from his chase to find Connor, and told me a little of his journey from the year that had passed. I heard nothing of his further goals and he spoke little of else, only to mutter some amenities whenever my aunt came by at home.

I rarely saw my aunt nowadays, being busy with the general good store down the street, and starting a local printing house where she would publish commercials and her poems together with the man she presently was sharing her bed with. When I had brought the sergeant home, my aunt saved me her preaching about boys for once, and told me to let him stay for as long as it was necessary. Since my sixteenth birthday, I had told her about the Templars and the Assassins, and she seemed to think ever in my favor since then, as I no longer had to lie about why I carried a dagger in my backpack all the time and what my dark sketchings portrayed. My aunt had of course threatened to strangle me to death for scaring her with such a revelation, but quickly got adjusted to the truth of what I told her. It explained to her why I always was in a hurry to obey Master Kenway – who she thought was my sword art teacher; yes, she actually let me train with weapons instead of learning how to knit – and I was, unfortunately, told by her how much of an "agreeable man" he was. Maybe she was teasing me, maybe not, but I could impossibly imagine my mentor with any woman at all. Certainly not because I thought he was... _you_ _know_, but he simply seemed to me like a man completely dedicated to his work.

_A true Templar._

The words echoed through my mind as I hurried to invite Alex inside. An immense amount of rain drenched Boston in its haziness and he was soaked to the bones, shaking his head like a dog as he held up a yellowing paper. "Look at what you pitiful people are doing to the world."

The heavy rainfall had almost washed away what letters the ink was showing and I had a hard time studying the article, processing his words meanwhile. His green-gray eyes watched me intensely and I cleared my throat before reading outloud.

"'The suspect has proven himself rightfully accused of the matter of the assassination of George Washington. The penalty for treason is death. Bear witness to his execution..." My voice trailed off as I gasped in horror and stared up into Alex's angry expression. "An execution," I repeated, suddenly feeling dehydrated, and soaked my lips. "What is this? And what are _you_ talking about? Who exactly are 'you'?"

He flung the paper to the ground and gave out a loud growl of frustration. "You are very well aware of what I'm talking about, Melissa, so don't try to sneak yourself out of this," Alex snarled and gripped my shoulders, shaking me back and forth almost violently. "This is because of you and your _fellow_ _Templars_."

I froze. _How? When? ..._Who_?!_

"Where did you learn of that? From whom?" I exclaimed and pushed him away from me. Alex took a step backwards but didn't lose his footing as I had hoped him to. "What's wrong with you? Calm down."

A mocking smirk spread across his lips. "I heard it from a friend of mine, how you belong to this stupid organization and helps them pursue their dream of total domination all over the world," he replied and scoffed. "How distasteful. You and your 'Master' Kenway. Now I finally know the truth about you and it would've been commendable, your act of hiding all of this from me, but it seems now like it has all backfired. What a pathetic group of maniacs."

I hit him in the face.

"Nobody," I breathed as I quickly backed away from him, afraid that he might counterattack me in an instant, but then remembered that Alex was probably the worst fighter in all of America and stopped. He would know nothing about openings and chances in an opponent's attack. "Nobody is allowed to speak so lowly about the Brotherhood," I continued and clenched my right fist, the one I had used to strike him. "Not even you, Alex. I'm politely asking you to leave from here in an instant before I throw you out."

He shook his head and sighed, gingerly rubbing the side of the face where I had hit him, and tryingly turned his jaw from side to side. "Ouch."

"Get out," I warned him and pointed at the door. "Now."

"I'm curious," he said and raised an eyebrow. "How exactly are you to 'throw' me out? Literally speaking? Or do you think I'll just obey you like you always do your 'Master'?"

_What has happened to him? He's not the Alex I used to know; he's so filled with hatred_, I thought as I stared into his sharp eyes. _Where is the boy I used to know? How did he become such a twisted version of himself?_

I exhaled. _Or was it because I left him in such a horrible demeanor that day? Did I really lose him permanently as I actually wished that day? Or... can I bring him back? _"Just leave, I don't want to call the soldiers."

"All of the soldiers currently stationed in Boston are loyal to the Continental Army," he immediately answered. "So what are you gonna do, Mel?"

"She's not going to do anything; I am."

William emerged out of my room, casually pulling out a flintlock pistol from his waistband and aimed at Alex. "I'm not a soldier but a sergeant and it's my right to dispose of violent civilians without issuing a report to my commander," he said coolly, cocking his head to the right. "Even though shooting isn't my thing, I won't miss you from here."

I couldn't believe what I saw. "Hey!" His eyes flickered to mine and I swallowed, not knowing how I should continue. "I thought you were in a coma or something," I muttered and crossed my arms. "Nice to finally hear of you."

He shrugged and approached me while pointing his gun at Alex. "Thanks, Rawling," William replied sarcastically.

"What did you say?"

I turned to Alex and his eyes were locked on the sergeant behind me. He looked like I had punched him in the stomach with all of my force or perhaps hit him in his face again, his face all drained of color.

"Excuse me, but could you be more precise?" asked William and I nodded in agreement. "What is wrong with you today, Alex?" I added when all of a sudden, the realization struck me like a bullet. "Does this have something to do with that Elizabeth?"

"I wonder," Alex replied, ignoring our questions, "what did you call her?"

William leaned against the wall next to me and cocked the hammer of the gun. The mechanic sound made me shiver in disgust but I wasn't ready to warn him not to shoot. Alex obviously didn't listen to what I said and if this was necessary to make him leave, I would accept it without questioning. Something was not right with his irrational behavior and I had an inkling or two about who was behind all of this. Neither did I think the sergeant to be a trigger-happy fool and he would definitely not shoot Alex inside of my house... only I hoped that Alex would think the other way around.

"I said 'Rawling'," answered William and huffed as Alex flinched as he mentioned my name. "Is it offending or anything?"

I remembered the days when Alex used to call me that and understood that he did as well. The two of us quickly looked at each other, then away. "No," said Alex, slightly dejected, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just... an old memory."

"So you two have history?" asked William and turned his pistol towards me then Alex. I grimaced when his attention returned to me. "Maybe I shouldn't disturb and let you two make up or something. The tension in this room is quite vibrant."

"Shut up," I snapped and rolled with my eyes. "Whatever the two of us had," I continued, my voice almost a whisper, "it's gone now and has been for a while."

He shrugged again. "Then what brings you here?" Williams emerald-green eyes suddenly focused on Alex and scrutinized him from head to toe. The sergeant was slightly shorter and skinnier, but nothing of his former lifelessness remained and he stood straight. "If it isn't to meet with this hot-headed little animal-lover," he pointed at me and I was tempted to hit him, "then you must be here to check on me. What has Elizabeth told you about the Templars and the Assassins? Of how much use are you exactly?"

Alex stiffened and clenched his fists. "How did you know?"

"Not hard." William made a disappointed noise with his tongue. "I know Elizabeth better than you could ever imagine. She's a despicable creature and a liar, but also very possessive. I guess she sent you here to check on me which means she wants me back. But you can tell her to fuck off; I've had enough of that bitch's misfortune."

I confusedly glanced between the two men and tried to catch their attention. "Excuse me, but what is going on here?"

Alex ignored me. "But then you should also know that she won't just let you off that easily," he said. "You owe her everything you have."

"I thought so, yes," replied William in an instant. "But now I know I don't." He turned to me and sighed. "Long story, _Rawling_, and I'll take it as soon as I dispose of the trash. But don't you wonder how your dear friend," he motioned towards an increasingly irritated Alex, "knew about you and the Assassin?"

I grew cold again and stared at Alex in aghast. He steadily met my gaze but I could see something similar to shame in his green-gray eyes. "Is he telling the truth, Alex?"

"I'm afraid I can't object, Mel," he answered angrily. "Elizabeth told me everything."

_But how? How does a blind girl know so much? _I shook my head in an attempt to clear my head of thoughts and signaled to the door. Since William's grand entrance with the gun, Alex had seemed to be calming down. A strange fury was still boiling beneath though, and it was with utter care I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Could you please leave?" I asked softly, my hands so comfortable with touching him but still not. "I don't feel the urge to see you in..." I paused. "Not in a while, at least. Keep away from me, please."

I thought he would put up with a resistance, a flaming speech, but he gave me a scornful look before quietly leaving.


	30. Chapter 6:5

**A/N:**

**I'm having such a blast writing nowadays! ;D**

**Hopefully, you'll like the extra plot I've put into the story: just to spice the gameplay up!**

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**Chapter 6:5**

_1776, June 28th_

As soon as I saw Alex disappear from my view by the window, I scurried down the hall in search for a jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"Searching..." I mumbled and soon discovered something appropriate for the weather in the thickness of the overflowing coat-hanger. "Found it."

"Where do you think you're going?"

I sighed and quickly dressed. "What do you think?" I asked snappishly and pulled my hair into a braid. "You heard him; Connor is going to be hanged."

"And what do you have to do with such trivialities? He's going to die sooner or later, right?" came the reply sarcastically.

I rolled with my eyes. "I liked you better when you were quiet, sergeant," I said irritably and searched for suitable shoes. The rain was still hailing down and I heard something deeper rumble in distance. "And could you stop waving that gun around like that? Whenever something happens, would it be Alex or Connor, you just show up with a gun barrel pointing at their faces."

"He deserves to die. Both do."

I whipped around, expecting William to stand at the same place as he had all along, but he was standing directly behind me and pulled out the bullets in the flintlock pistol. He looked calm enough as he nonchalantly fired the emptied gun. It made a clicking sound. "The Assassin really is begging for it." He scoffed. "People thinking that they can go around killing other human beings are _sick, _especially when they're justifying their actions with 'for the future'. Now, why don't you just let Destiny do her job?"

"'Destiny'?" I wondered and paused in my rampage. "Who's that?"

William chuckled. "Don't take me too literal; it's just a way of using words. Soldier's language, so to speak," he explained. "Death, Destiny and Doom, three sisters of blood and law." He paused as he saw my astonished expression. "It's just a story, Rawling."

"Don't call me that," I groaned and the right corner of his mouth twitched in something that almost was a smile. "I mean it. Don't."

"Because it reminds you too much of the idiot?" I glared at him and he chuckled again. "He is if he listens to Elizabeth. The stupidest idiot in the world- or wait, that's me because I helped her out first."

"Cut to the point, Sergeant Somerset," I replied angrily. It felt like he was playing me with his words, knowing exactly which ones to say to catch my attention, and we both knew I was being pressured by time. Connor's execution could be anytime now, even though I had seen that the time of the hanging was appointed to half past four. The grandfather clock was ticking dangerously close now. "I don't like games."

_He knows what I want to know and is baiting me with it_, I thought and grimaced. _And here I thought that he would've matured during the past year. _"I don't know how you do it but you do," I admitted reluctantly and met his gaze. "But I am really not keen on beating around the bush; either you tell me or you do not. Stop with the teasing."

William was serious as he opened his mouth to answer me, eyes regarding me with a hurt expression. "It's a long story," he said, apologetic. We stared each other down before he exhaled and threw his hands up in the air in a defeated gesture. "Alright, I'll tell you later. Go then, to save _him_. Good luck with that."

I nodded and flung myself out of the door and almost slipped on the staircase but got out without any injuries. I was instantly soaked in the cold rain and ran towards the nearest market-place.

_It's pouring, _I stated quietly as I moved between and past other people, careful not to knock into them. _I can impossibly climb the roofs in this weather; I would fall and break my neck. Let's only hope I'm running towards the right place. Auntie told me that this was were they "usually" __executed traitors. _I tried to calm down my rapidly beating heart and slowed down as I passed a corner next to a bakery. Another thought was gnawing on my mind but I didn't want to give it any more thinking for the moment. I had a mission and I would focus on it only.

_He kissed me._

My cheeks flushed with color as I waited for a wagon to pass. I tried to shake my head clear of the memories that came flowing back to me.

_He touched me so tenderly._

"Stop it..." I muttered and pinched the bridge of my nose, crossing the cobblestoned street as fast as I could. "Focus."

_He's killed so many. He's a cold-blooded murderer._

"Stop it," I repeated, this time a bit louder then started running again. I was drenched even through my clothes and shivered, though not because of the cold. _Who exactly is this Elizabeth? __How comes she knows so much? Is she also a Judicator? What is this organization even doing and did Alex speak the truth about the consequences of the battle between the Templars and the Assassins? Was it the Judicators who kept the world in balance all along? _I shook my head again.

_He deserves to die and you know that. Same hands that caressed your cheeks so gently have killed countless of Regulars. They've touched Death more than a human should possibly do and still you long for them __and them only__._

"Please stop it..."

_Don't you just hate yourself for your weakness? __Your fear?_

I was too busy with my thoughts to see when I stumbled into a person and both of us were knocked to the ground. I heard a heartbreaking yelp of shock and immediately got up on my feet with a swift movement – even though my backside hurt immensely – to help her up. But as my eyes finally found hers I was struck dumbfounded.

_Elizabeth._

"Oh my Lord, I must apologize," she blurted out and tried to find her now muddied umbrella. Her beautiful, navy blue dress was in a horrible state as well, but she didn't seem to care, seeking only for my forgiveness. "I'm so clumsy and didn't think while walking, you see I'm blind and I usually have a walking stick but forgot it at a friend's. I'm so sorry, sir."

I didn't know what to do. _Should I just mimic someone else's voice and walk away? She can impossibly-_

Her fingers caught onto my leg and she lighted up. "Oh, is it you Melissa? I didn't even recognize you! What are you mumbling about?"

I froze. _How in God's name did she... _"Erm, is that you, Elizabeth?" I asked and tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm so sorry I ran into you, I was just in a hurry and-"

"Call me Liz," she said and smiled widely. "And I'm fine, no harm done to me."

To my jealousy, Elizabeth was still the most handsome woman I had ever seen even when soaked and dirtied. She made the clean and polished people around her look gray and pale in comparison to her golden hair and pretty face. And she was blind! She didn't even show her eyes and she was so beautiful.

_Some people are just born lucky, _I thought and felt irritated. "Alright," I said and helped her up. "I got to continue but it was nice to meet you again."

Standing in front of me like this, I couldn't think of her to have any menacing plans. She didn't at all look like someone capable of spreading rumors, keeping secrets or being two-faced. But then again, that's probably what made her so successful in her endeavors. Elizabeth was so deceptive and sweet, but children even half of my age were taught that a blunt knife can kill as well as a sharp and I started walking again. I did not yet know anything about her, but my instincts told me to avoid her whenever it would seem possible.

"Melissa."

My breath caught in my throat as she suddenly gripped my arm. I stiffened and slowly turned around, trying to calm down my panicking heart. I didn't think she would be able to fight me in any situation – if she wasn't armed with a gun – but her blindness scared me in ways I couldn't understand.

Elizabeth wasn't faced towards me but I heard her voice good enough even if it wasn't more than a whisper. The rain was still pounding the city with its merciless force but even nature seemed to subdue to her will as it diminished when she spoke.

"I know the secrets," she said and giggled. "I know it all."

Her hand loosened around my wrist and I shrugged it off. I wished for a second to rip off the band around her head, but feeling that what might lie beneath would maybe be worse than what I already saw, made me ignore the urge.

"Excuse me?" I asked sternly. "What secrets?"

Elizabeth crouched down to pick up her umbrella and pulled it open above her head. The rain started falling again. "Everything you need to know to see the truth," she replied teasingly then looked over her shoulder. "Oh, are you still here? I thought you were in a hurry."

_How can she see? _"Let me see your eyes," I demanded and now it was me grasping for her arm.

She took a step forward to avoid my hand and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you want to see what hides beneath," Elizabeth gestured in front of her face, "this. But I am blind or I wouldn't walk around with this stupid thing."

Her otherwise so sweet voice was gone and replaced with something harsh and much colder. "Though I wasn't born blind if that's what you wonder," she continued bitterly. "There was a time when I was able to experience the world as you and even more so on."

"So your jealous of me?" I asked, surprised by her sudden change of demeanor and also feeling slightly more confident by her acknowledgment. "Because I can see?"

Elizabeth laughed and then she was her joyful self again. "You?" she exclaimed and pointed at me. "Absolutely not. Your life? No." She paused and her finger wavered almost imperceptibly but I noticed it in an instant. "I want back what is rightfully mine."

"I have no property of yours," I replied immediately and shrugged before realizing that she couldn't see me. "I really don't want anything from you."

"How fortunate," she said and smiled. "And what I'm talking about isn't exactly a certain object of some sort... more like a man. Officer Will."

I scoffed and crossed my arms, ignoring the fact that she was unable to see me. _At least I feel better this way_, I thought as I opened my mouth to speak. "_Sergeant Somerset_, is presently injured," I answered nonchalantly. "I fear he's quite cuckoo in his head; always lifting his gun for no reason. Even indoors."

"Don't try to be funny with me." Elizabeth's fair countenance turned dark. "He's not yours to keep."

"Last time I checked, he's a free man," I said and examined her. She was furious, I could easily see it in the way she was clutching the handle of the umbrella. _Why not provoke her a little bit more? _"I think he was born noble actually. That's at least what he told me."

She pouted with her soft lips. "How sweet to hear that he can talk to other women than me," Elizabeth replied venomously. "But he's not supposed to." She sighed and turned forward. "Well, a loyal dog always knows his place and that's by his owner."

I was utterly disgusted by her words and made it clear as I answered her. "Oh, did I mention that he called you a despicable liar and a bitch?"

She ignored me started to walk away, but I wasn't ready to let her go just yet. Our meeting had only led to more unanswerable questions for me than ever and even though I wanted to get as far away from her as possible, I wanted more an answer to the question that had been caused by William and was gnawing in the back of my mind ever since.

"Wait!"

She stopped. "Something else I would like to know about Will?" she asked teasingly.

I took a deep breath before answering, making sure that I wouldn't sound too curious or too distressed; both of the feelings quickly enveloped me as quickly as the rain had soaked me earlier and was still.

"Is my sister alive?"

I held my breath, watching her face as intensely as I could, but she didn't seem surprised at all. It felt like she had anticipated the question all along and I realized to my dismay that she had.

Elizabeth smiled contently. "Send him my best regards, Melissa, and have a continuously good day. Though I doubt there will be any joy when I tell you that the time is in a moment hitting five..."

The sound of a nearby church's large, moving clock started resonating throughout the city, interrupting what Elizabeth had to say. But I didn't care; I had missed the execution.


	31. Chapter 7:1

**Chapter 7:1**

_1776, June 28th_

I got to the plaza much too late.

People were leaving the place with renewed hopes in their faces and even occasional cheering and I quickly understood that something miraculous had happened. My rapidly beating heart calmed down and I could finally take a break. _Something great must have happened_, I thought and wiped the rainwater and sweat off my forehead. _Is there maybe a God?_

"I'm so happy he got help in time!"

I raised my gaze from the muddied ground and tried to find the speaker. It was a woman walking with her husband, her cheeks flushed with excitement and joy. I listened intently to each and every word she said.

"It was doomed to fail eventually," replied the man dryly. He wasn't at all as frantic as his wife but still seemed content with the course of events. "Those Regulars; their tyranny was bound to nothing else but this."

The woman nodded in agreement. "I have always sided with the rebels in all secrecy, Mr Reed, but now I think it's even safe to scream loudly for the Sons of Liberty!"

She raised a fist to the sky, drenching her woolen coat sleeve and her husband pulled it back under the safety of the umbrella while laughing in amusement. "Stop it, my dear, you are drawing everybody else's attention."

"So what if I do, they all agree with me," said the woman ferociously and reminded me so much of my aunt that I for a second thought it was her. "We are finally _free_."

They then started to walk faster and scurried through an alley to my right. I didn't bother following them for more information; the short bit of their conversation I had intercepted was enough for me to understand the most vital. Connor had survived after all.

_He's alive._

I was cold everywhere but I refused to return back to my home even though I had the answer for my question. There was a fear that slowly consumed me as I stiffly walked towards the scene where the execution had been to occur, curious to what I was soon about to see. Whenever the Assassin collided with the Templars or the Redcoats, it resulted in a heavy loss for the latter, since – at least what I had seen thus far – Connor was practically invincible.

I instinctively grimaced. The word "invincible" was abject for me to use but nothing else could fit the description of him. He could mislead, stealth, fight, shoot, hide and most of all believe that he fought for justice. Something I just couldn't; I questioned everything. Had he been born in a different way, perhaps he would've ended up as a Templar. What an irony, after all.

"Clean this mess up! Someone bring a wagon to carry away this corpse!"

A guard was standing on a wooden crate and shouted orders above my head. I ignored him and continued forward, until I finally found what I had been looking for.

The dead body of Thomas Hickey.

_I knew you would die soon_, I thought without sadness and examined his face. He looked to have died slowly, his jaw twisted in a demonic grin of pain, and without the calmness that his precursors had possessed after being killed by Connor. Mr. Hickey had been a brute of a man, taking and talking whatever he wanted, and it had been of no secrecy that I had disliked him at start.

The rain had stopped. I knelt next to his dead body and scrutinized his injuries. Blood lay spread across his chest and I guessed that he had either been shot or hit in the chest by a weapon too blunt to cut but enough sharpened to cause great damage at impact. After a moment of hesitation, I closed his opened eyelids and held his cold, dead hands in mine.

"May God bless you and your legacy for having been faithful to the Cause," I whispered and closed my eyes as well. "You've served us well, now rest forever in peace."

"A man like him would prefer a less sentimental speech at his death."

I dropped Mr. Hickey's lifeless limbs and hurried to stand. My teacher stood in front of me and looked at me with the tiniest glint of humor sparkling his dark eyes. He eyed me up and down – making me realize how horrible I must look – and offered me his coat. I tried to deny him but he stubbornly hung the heavy garment over my shoulders and tucked my arms into the sleeves.

"Thank you, sir," I mumbled. My fingers were almost numb with cold and I understood just then how much I actually was freezing. "But I'm completely soaked and dirty, this coat-"

"-Can be washed and replaced," he replied as a matter of fact. "Nothing to worry about." Master Kenway placed his hand on my shoulder and his features turned concerned. "Is everything alright? Do you feel nauseous?"

I shook my head and gave him a grateful smile. "Sir, nothing, I feel normal," I replied quickly. "It was my fault that I brought no jacket with me."

"Not that." He paused and seemed troubled. "Thomas is lying here dead in front of us and you don't seem bothered at all. You touched his dead body and even prayed for him."

I furrowed my brows, not understanding what he wanted to have said. "Excuse me, but I can't really seem to follow your thought, sir."

He sighed and took off his hat in honor of the fallen Templar. My teacher crouched down to the corpse of Mr. Hickey and pulled off a muddied ring from the corpse's finger, then put it in the safety of his pocket.

"I fear you're growing too cold," he admitted and then rose up. His eyes were grave as they met mine. "There's of course nothing wrong with being so abundant with faith for the Templars, but stay vigilant and learn about life from other perspectives as well, Melissa. I'm not claiming that you are doing wrong when acknowledging such a sacrificing obligation you carry with such... unquestionable loyalty, but I fear sometimes that I made the wrong choice when I accepted such a young heart and mind like yours into the Brotherhood." Mr. Kenway put on his hat again and then gave me a reassuring pat on my head. "I have come to appreciate your company too well and have during these years of your service thought it to be obvious to have you around, but it's really up to you if you want to continue being part of the Templars."

It took me a while to answer to this since his words shook my very being of mind. I had never thought it in that way, that I was just so used to obeying and serving him that I had forgotten that life offered me other options. It was almost scary when I realized how blindly my loyalty went – almost crossing into madness – and I pondered for a long time. Mr. Kenway waited silently for my answer and gestured for me to follow him as a group of soldiers came to carry away Mr. Hickey's body.

I sighed and walked behind him until we reached an empty alleyway. Warmth was slowly spreading all over my body and I could finally move my fingers again. A streak of sun suddenly appeared from behind a heavy cloud and broke through the haziness of the city. I squinted with my eyes and instinctively held up a hand to shady my vision.

"Now... Melissa, this is very important for you to answer in all honesty."

Mr. Kenway finally terminated the awkward silence between the two of us and looked at me. His hazelnut-colored eyes were concerned and he continued in seriousness. "I don't want you to be dragged into all of this," he gestured towards the market-place behind us, "and feel forced. This is a war and you are more than aware of the horrible situation that can occur and are occurring all over the country."

He paused when two sailors passed us. They eyed him suspiciously but as they looked at me, their expressions grew calm and they proceeded to walk without bothering with us any more. As soon as they had disappeared out of earshot, Mr. Kenway spoke again.

"You see what happened?" he asked and I shook my head. "They thought I would be trouble, but when they realized that we were in company, they changed their minds and immediately saw me as your father." My teacher smiled ever so slightly. "Not that I would mind that; you've made me very proud."

I opened my mouth to reply but he held up a finger to silence me. "You've been an excellent ally, Melissa, and you deserve to choose for yourself. Will you follow me or not?"

"S-sir," I stammered. "Could I have a moment to think, please?"

He nodded and I turned away from him, my gaze immediately fixating on the ground. My body had regained its usual strength and I clenched my fists.

_How should I do? _I bit my lower lip. _I would never have been this strong without Mr. Kenway's help, but is my will really my own? I can't know for sure. He mended me into who I am today and pushed me beyond limits of what a child should endure. I've seen horrible things and done even more horrible things and all because of him._

_But I've also grown and matured as someone my age will never understand_, I thought, feeling oddly enlightened._ He helped me see the world in another perspective and made me feel powerful. He's given me everything I have today and still wants to give me more: my independence. There is nothing wrong with serving honorable men and to die for them; that's what war has taught me. Mr. Kenway is probably the closest to honorable as one could get, if not the embodiment of the Templar's epitome of justice and freedom, and it would be most disrespectful __to deny him of my loyalty. It would be terribly shameful to back down now._

_But then again, I would feel that I belonged to myself and not to a secret society._

"Sir," I said with a steady voice and turned around to face him.

He had been gazing off into the all bluer sky with much observance and lowered his gaze to meet mine. "Have you made your decision?"

I nodded and took off his heavy coat, giving it to him with gentle hands. Mr. Kenway received it and watched me in anticipation as I finally answered.

"I'll always stay you loyal, sir."


	32. Chapter 7:2

**A/N:**

**Haii my ladies and gentlemen, I hope you haven't missed me too much! (Nor will kill me for this late update D:)**

**I was in Barcelona (Spain) with my parents for a week and worked all weekend with posting my other fanfiction, which was due to the day when we were leaving but I never got the time to finish it. ._. I got an iPad (!) from school and wanted to use it during the trip, but it's practically useless without internet connection...**

**So, without further ado, here's the next chapter! I hope you've had a great week thus far! And sorry once again for the no heads-up; I should've mentioned something in my last chapter, but I had counted on being able to write there... My bad!**

**Oh, btw, I got a couple of comments about that my writing style has changed immensely from the first chapter of this series and even though I wanna claim it was all my doing (:3), it's not. I did have a plan to make Melissa more mature in the language she uses and describes with all along as she grows up, but it's also thanks to my improving writing skills. I wanna thank all of you followers/favorites/reviewers for your feedback as well as those of you who only read and stay somewhat anonymous (I can track down your IP address and find you, I swear ((Not really ^^')). I wouldn't have made it this far without all of your support and just wanna thank you for making me so motivated to work with writing! It's really a total blast and something I wish I would've come up quicker with, but never mind grudging for the past!**

**Long A/N, I know, but I just want you to realize how important you are to me ^^ So thank you all for this _amazing_ experience!**

* * *

**Chapter 7:2**

_1777, November 30th_

A year had passed quickly yet again, but still I could not remember if there had been any colder winter during my seventeen years in the world.

"Feeling a bit chilly?"

I turned to my master and mentor, Mr. Haytham Kenway, with an excusing smile on my lips. "No sir, I feel alright," I replied and pulled my aunties scarf – which I had "borrowed" - into an even harder knot around my neck. My throat was sore and I feared that I was starting to get a cold. I was actually wearing a jacket as well, together with a pair of thick gloves, but whenever the wind came swooshing by, I could feel the snowflakes nestle through my thick reinforcement of fur and cloth and ravaging my flesh of its heat. The winter was brutal, relentless and season hated the most, this winter in particular. It was always dark and cold, and the weather required of me to wear thick, rigid clothing, something I felt most uncomfortable in. But it was also the time of the year when almost everyone I knew celebrated their birthdays, namely my eccentric and quite snappish aunt – who had started to loosen up actually, especially as of late – and Alex.

_Another year without being there for you, friend, _I thought sorrowfully and pressed together my lips. _It's been too long, Alex, way too long. But I'm not sure I know _you_ any more. You've changed so damn much – __but__ so have I._

"...listening? Excuse me, Melissa, but am I boring you out?"

I snapped out of my reverie and rose from the slippery ground. We were standing outside an abandoned chapel, where we were searching for clues. The reason why we had ended up there was a dire one indeed; Mr. Benjamin Church had not only double-crossed the Continental Army but as well deceived the Order of the Templars, then joined the side of the British for his own, selfish needs, something I had never thought to be occurred. Loyalty was an absolution that my mentor always taught me to respect, even if it was from one person I despised very much to another person I despised likewise. There was nothing more honorable than the aspects of regard and fidelity in his view.

It had therefore not been much of a surprise when Mr. Kenway decided to execute this mission personally, with me as his only ally, as Mr. Lee was busy managing politics under Washington's command. My teacher had taken the betrayal deeply at heart and I knew that vengeance for him in something as unforgivable as breaking the bond of trust, would be established in nothing but the struck point of his hidden blades. Mr. Chuch would die, there was nothing more to it, and as the faithful servant I was and would always remain, I had accepted this mission with much humbleness. There was an abysmal depth into Mr. Kenway's dark eyes, his hazelnut-colored orbs filled with cold, calculating fury. It almost made the chill of the winter nothing but a hot gust of wind, a late summer night by the sea. Almost.

"I apologize, sir," I said and scratched the back of my head. "There's nothing on the ground, not what I can see."

Mr. Kenway chuckled softly. "I don't care about what 'unique' type of dirt you can find on the ground, Melissa; there's someone approaching."

"Excuse me, sir?" I asked, "I can't seem to hear any-"

But then I heard it. Sounds of someone's footsteps, crushing the crispy layer of snow beneath his or hers weight. It came from somewhere in the woods and I opened my mouth to correct myself when Mr. Kenway tucked me beneath his arm and pulled me into the old, frozen chapel.

"Sir-" I started but he silenced me with a roughly put hand over my mouth. I made the instinctive move to evade his grip but he caught me before I could finish my motion. Our eyes connected and he pointed towards the ceiling of the building and I understood his notion. We were to ambush the unknown visitor, or perhaps kill him. It would depend on how much information we could gain from him or her.

Mr. Kenway and I quickly maneuvered upon the ledge above the entrance of the sanctuary and waited in stillness. I, because I had a feeling that the wood would break beneath our weight, and my teacher, because he wanted not to ruin the opportunity. We were both tense, ready to jump immediately as the person came into our view – maybe it would be even Mr. Church himself – and seize the intruder of our investigation, when I recognized the tall, white-hooded man casually strolling in. I couldn't believe my eyes, but the rest of my body did and I immediately grasped for Mr. Kenway, who already had unsheathed his hidden blades. He looked at me inquiringly and I stiffened.

_Who was I to stop the man I owe everything to? Mr. Kenway has offered me everything_, I thought grimly. _Denying him the opportunity to end his only source headache would be unbelievably brutal and rude of me. And I promised him my allegiance._

Mr. Kenway waited another heartbeat for me to explain my sudden gesture but I shook my head, urging him to jump down first. He raised an eyebrow at my bold command and I quickly regretted what I had done, averting my gaze in respect. My teacher didn't seem to have anything else to add but leaped down, feet first, aiming for the Assassin. The latter was just starting to turn around and a look of surprise splayed across his handsome features. Connor's eyes caught onto mine, but only momentarily, as his hazelnut-colored eyes caught onto the descending Templar.

And that was when a far forgotten thought swung back and hit me with full force. Because I _had _recognized his eyes, once very long time ago. I _had_ admitted how awfully familiar they were and now the answer was obvious in plain light.

The two men clashed violently and the Assassin was thrown to the cold, wooden floor. I landed shortly after Mr. Kenway and my knees were shaking in fear. _Could this... Could something like this really be possible?_

"Father," spat Connor before he collided with the ground and grunted in pain.

I couldn't even contain my shock even though my mind had already processed with the information since long. This was something I had imagined just for fun, one late evening when I was unable to sleep. I had been lying on my bed – it was pouring outside, thus immobilizing me from any outdoor activities – trying hard to fall asleep, but was unable to and busied my mind – and notebook – with nonsense such as this. Ironically, I was wondering what could make my life impossibly more difficult, and I remembered what had been my scribbled answer:

_If I will succeed achieving what my heart longs for and then lose it because of my adamant faith of justice and morals. Or if Connor's eyes would stop reminding me of Mr. Kenway's._

The last had only been somewhat of a joke, since I usually always filled my journal with all kinds of thoughts and mementos, but in retrospect I realized how right I had been.

_Alas, horrible irony and fate: why is this always happening to me?_

"Connor," replied Mr. Kenway dryly and a shiver ran through my spine. _How had he come to know? And since how long?_ "Any last words?" he asked and pointed his weapon towards his... _son_.

The Assassin pushed back his assailant with a well-placed kick which missed Mr. Kenway with only a hair's breadth, and rose to his feet. My teacher recollected his posture and the two murderers started circulating each other, a tense atmosphere heating up the otherwise icy environment.

"Did you come to check up on Church?" asked Connor angrily and his eyes flashed to mine. They were dark and full of restrained hatred. "To make sure that he has stolen enough for your British brothers?"

Mr. Kenway scoffed haughtily and sheathed his weapons. "Benjamin Church is no brother of mine, no more than the Redcoats or their idiotic king," he replied scornfully. "I had expected naivety but this-" He sighed. "The Templars do _not_ fight for the Crown. We seek the same as you, boy. Freedom, justice, independence-"

"But-" started Connor and looked at his... _father_.

"But what?" interrupted my teacher mockingly. "Hmm?"

"Johnson, Pitcairn and Hickey." He pointed accusingly at Mr. Kenway. "They sought to steal land; to sack towns; to murder George Washington."

I tried to cut in with an opinion of my own, but my mentor raised his hand and I closed my mouth in obedience. Connor's gaze flickered to mine and something hurtful filled his countenance before returning to watch Mr. Kenway. The Templar chose not to comment our wordless exchanges but something similar to a smirk flashed by his lips.

"Johnson sought to own the land, so that we might keep it safe," explained my teacher with another sigh. Father and son were still circulating each other as hostile targets. "Pitcairn aimed to courage diplomacy, which you cocked up thoroughly enough to start a god damn war!" he exclaimed irritably. "And Hickey..."

Mr. Kenway averted his stern gaze from Connor and looked at me. "George Washington is a wretched leader. He has lost nearly every battle which he has taken part," he continued and turned back towards the Assassin. "The man is wrapped with uncertainty and insecurity!" He paused and sighed. "Only look at Valley Forge and know my words are true. We're all... better off without him."

Connor stayed quiet and I understood that Mr. Kenway had proven his point. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn't. There was still the shock of their family bonding

disclosure but also the strangeness of it all. And still, in the midst of all this chaos, I could see a light.

_Hope_.

"Look, much as I'd like to spar with you, Benjamin Church's mouth is as big as his ego," said Mr. Kenway sarcastically. "_You _clearly want the supplies he has stolen; I want him punished. Our interests are align."

Connor seemed to be contemplating for a moment, hesitating several times before answering, but finally readied a reply. "And what do you propose?"

"A truce," answered Mr. Kenway immediately. "Perhaps..." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps some time together might do us good. You are my son, after all, and might still be saved from your ignorance."

With a look of despise and disgust, Connor clenched his fists and did not answer. I tried to intrude their conversation once again by voicing _my _opinions, when Mr. Kenway unsheathed his hidden blades and made a threatening gesture.

"I can kill you now, if you prefer," he said coolly and stopped pacing around. "There will be nothing to it, even though you are my _son_."

The Assassin moved with lightning speed and suddenly appeared behind Mr. Kenway, not even a yard from where I stood. I heard the sound of knives parrying but could not track their movements with my eye, and after only a couple of seconds, Connor had his hidden blade pressed onto the soft flesh of Mr. Kenway's throat. My teacher's arms were locked behind his neck and he was rendered defenseless.

I reacted in an instant and pulled up my flintlock pistol, aiming the gun barrel at the back of Connor's head. The point of the blunt weapon almost touched the fabric of his hood and he stiffened.

"Let him go," I said and tried to stop my hand from shaking. _Please, don't make me have to shoot you._ "I don't want to kill you."

Mr. Kenway scoffed. "I agree."

Connor had no choice and we all knew it. The moment grew, as did the tension between us, but then he finally moved. The Assassin reluctantly pulled back his hidden blades and Mr. Kenway shrugged him off with a content smile.

"Excellent. Shall we be off?"

My teacher gestured for me to take point to exit the abandoned chapel and I obeyed. He seemed fairly satisfied with the course of events but I was still clenching the gun with both of my hands, knowing that the reason why Connor had stayed his hand was not because of his father, but something else entirely. I wanted to thank him, but knew that it was impossible for the moment.

"Do you even know where Benjamin Church has gone?" wondered Connor mockingly and Mr. Kenway came to a stop. "Or are we just to run rampart in every city?"

The Templar sighed. "I'm afraid not," he replied, his voice filled with disappointment. "I had hoped to ambush him when he or one of his men returned here... though it seems I'm too late; they've already come to clean the place out."

I paused at the entrance, noticing how close Connor had sneaked upon his father, and readied myself for another confrontation with steel and violence, but nothing came, to my relief. I exhaled and put away my gun.

"Maybe we can ask around in the nearby area?" I asked halfheartedly. I didn't want to stay out in the freezing cold for any moment longer; I wanted to ask Mr. Kenway about why he had chosen to let his... _son_ stay alive. It wasn't like him.

Connor nodded and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat as I recalled the touch of his lips against mine, the gentleness of his large hands and how they caressed my cheek, all the way down to my collarbone... I couldn't remember how many times I had repeated the scene over and over again in my head, almost like the memory was my only dependance to wake in the morning or a glimpse of a happier life. It also reminded me of what I had lost with Alex.

_Alex..._

"There's a man over there," noted Mr. Kenway casually. "He might possess the information we require."

I shook my head clear of all distracting thoughts and followed his gaze. The poor man was trying to free his wagon from a ditch in the road with only his hands. I guessed that the snow had hidden the pit, making him lead his horse across it without knowing.

_What misfortune_, I thought and grimaced. _This is definitely not his luckiest day. He isn't even wearing __gloves for God's sake! _"What's with him? Sir?" I asked and hurried after them since father and son already was starting to close in on the man.

"Are you Benjamin Church's man?"

Connor's voice was polite, almost kind, but that didn't seem to persuade the stranger. He immediately charged off into the woods, but was only able to get a couple of yards; the Assassin was much faster and could easily grab onto the man's collar and brutally pushed him into a tree. I glanced at Mr. Kenway and he nonchalantly gestured for me to approach the two.

"Where is Benjamin Church?" demanded Connor to know. "Where is he?"

The man panicked and started ranting about everything between earth and sky; I didn't even notice when Mr. Kenway took my flintlock pistol and pointed it towards the stranger. Thinking that it was a way to make him talk, I turned to look at the bald, white-bearded man.

And his head was blown into smithereens.


	33. Chapter 7:3

**A/N:**

**SO MUCH STUDYING.**

**GOD AWFUL.**

**BUT I'M ALIVE.**

**(Thanks to ice cream and a drama serie 3)**

**:D**

**Here's the next chapter! ^^**

**Chapter 7:3**

I had to admit that the adorned, powerful flintlock pistol was not my choice of weapon if I was free to choose. It took too long to reload and was too heavy for me to aim properly. Sure I could hit a person in a critical spot, but if there was to ever be a time when I would have to be extra careful what to hit, I would fail. On the other hand, I never denied the opportunity to arm myself with a couple of extra bullets and a gun if such a skirmish would be necessary.

But never to kill.

Swords and daggers were definitely something I mastered, and it felt natural for me to wield them, even though it looked somewhat odd at times when I walked about in the city. There were many women starting to arm themselves with lesser knives and daggers – most of them second- and third-rate weapons – that would protect them from an assailant or two, but nobody I've encountered had worn a sword. The one I carried was short compared to the soldiers', but sharp and light and easy to swing.

Though I had tried, there was no longer a chance for me to pretend I was a boy any longer. Female features were clearly noticeable – even through thick layers of fabrics – and though I had had my hair cut to the shoulders a while ago, nobody thought I was a boy. My bodily transformation had gotten to me a bit of a surprise, since I never got used to the monthly bleeding nor the experimental brassiere I had made. I could impossibly use a corset, my body rejecting the stiff material as wood does fire, and since my aunt wasn't the best seamstress and it would be too embarrassing to ask Alex's mother for help, I had tried my best to make something work. And it did – for now.

I was rather tall and muscular for a girl supposed to support her aunt with a printing shop and an old man with his general store, but it didn't bother me at all. I was hardly vain or caring too much for my appearance; a simple brush through my hair morning and evening was alright, as well as washing myself when needed.

Some girls actually had the audacity to shamelessly stare at me when passing by with their fancy, grand dresses in colors of peach, seaweed and lilies, their eyes glittering with humor and pity when regarding me. My mind could come up with no logical reason for their giggles and stifled laughs, but humiliation caught me off foot once when one of the girls finally spoke her thoughts out loud.

"So this is what men seek nowadays," she had said, giggling and throwing her large, blonde curls over her shoulder. "How tragic. Isn't it, ladies?"

Her entourage of similarly dressed girls quickly gathered around her, first worriedly watching me as they thought me a wild animal, but then also softly cooing in harmony. "Yes," they responded and I understood that the blonde woman was the leader of the pack.

Ironically, they acted more like animals than myself and I chose to add it in my answer as I recollected myself. "You actually remind me of a girl I used to know," I replied and gave her a polite smile. "Her name was... was it Belinda?" I had overheard an innkeeper on my way there as she screamed the name to one of the pigs cared for at her tavern.

"And what happened to your dear friend Belinda?" asked she immediately. "Maybe lost in alcohol and drugs?"

I didn't answer, exhorting her friends to laugh at me again, then shook my head. "No," I continued. "I fear her father lost all of their money, but she never told me because she was afraid what I would say. She dressed in the most beautiful garments and kept her appearance as handsome as possible in an attempt to forget." I cocked my head to the right. "But that would never happen to you, am I right?"

Her shocked expression said enough and I smiled contently. "Or am I mistaken?" I inquired innocently. "Because my aunt told me that something similar happened to your family."

"That was just awfully rude," she snapped viciously. Her eyes glittered with a sheen I knew to be tears but she was quick to recollect herself and haughtily raised her left eyebrow. "But I didn't expect something else from such a lowborn yourself." A false smile etched onto her lips. "I should have known better than to talk to you. Let's away, ladies."

"She shouldn't talk to you like that," said one of the girls behind her and eyed me from top down. "She needs to know her place."

"I agree," added another, a prettier girl than most. Her perfectly shaped hair flowed freely down her shoulders in large, dark waves, and her eyes shone like well-polished sapphires. "I wouldn't talk like that if I were you," she continued and crossed her arms. "Lonely girls do best to care extra how to behave. Accidents... happen."

She smiled venomously and I was just to reply with something harsher when another person cut in before me.

"Who said she was alone?"

I rolled with my eyes and sighed as Sergeant- _William _brusquely shoved his way through the lesser crowd of young women surrounding me and held up an innocent looking bag, that in fact contained wooden cases filled with bullets. My secret storage of weapons – a dusty old box behind a loose plank in the bedroom wall – was starting to run out of ammunition and I had therefore asked a certain soldier for help, since I didn't like to be low on stock if an emergency would appear. I wasn't even allowed into the arms deal to _browse_ the goods, but William had not only free access to enter – he had the necessary governmental papers to buy large amounts of it without anyone questioning him.

As William closed in to me, I immediately noticed the shy whisperings and flirtatious smiles that were thrown at him like flowers and bouquets on a grand parade. They glanced at him approvingly and fluttered with their eyelashes, almost desperately wanting him to offer them a single notion of attention. It was ridiculous to witness.

"Sergeant," greeted the blonde girl who had spoken to me at first and curtsied gracefully. She sent him a dazzling smile and I bit my lower lip in an attempt to quench my laughter. _Please, _I thought, _tell me this is some kind of a joke._

"Ladies," he acknowledged and seemed oblivious to their reactions. "What's happening here?" William pointed at me. "Is she causing any troubles?"

"Hey-" I started but the leader of the little group interrupted me.

"Yes," she quickly put in and her smile widened. "How fortunate that there's still some respectable men left in the world."

William raised a dark eyebrow. "I wasn't talking to you," he asked coolly and handed me the bag. Surprised gasps followed his movement and he frowned as he met my gaze. "What's the issue, Melissa?"

I glared at him. "I don't need your help. And why did you point at me?" I exclaimed irritably and shook my head. "Nevermind," I continued. "Why took you so long?"

"There was a problem with the verification," answered William and shrugged. "I told a lie, saying that my certificate was the most recent and therefore maybe unfamiliar at some points, but I'm afraid I suspect something... off."

"Ahem." The girl with the golden curls looked at first me then at the sergeant. "Do you," she gestured between the two of us, "perhaps know each other? Acquaintances? Friends?"

William shrugged again. "I don't exactly _know_ her," he replied and I threw another angry glare at him. "And we're not exactly friends. Or foes."

I was just about to open my mouth and insult him, when his emerald-green eyes locked with mine and stunned me with their intensity. As he spoke, I noticed that his otherwise so proud and sarcastic voice was smothered by something different; I could swear that he sounded _honest_.

"I owe her."

I closed my mouth and swallowed. The atmosphere had suddenly turned awfully genuine, especially in the company of so many strangers. William had unabashedly spoken the words so candidly and that none of the girls even dared to smile. He didn't need me to respond because he already knew what I thought about that. I didn't like to be in dept to anyone and rarely confessed that I needed help, but I did owe the sergeant my life and that was a fact I couldn't neglect for the sake of my own stubborn pride. Unfortunately enough. It wasn't something I was happy for but I admitted it, if somewhat reluctantly. That was why I felt like I had to help, support and advice him to follow a better road than that of Elizabeth's.

Because no matter how many times I wanted to forget it, I couldn't erase my thoughts of her. She felt... _familiar_. And I was scared of what she had done to Alex and might be continuously doing, but yet again my stupid pride would absorb the worry and convince me that everything was alright, that I was only superstitious, and keep me away from him.

I really wanted to meet him – only, I knew I couldn't.

_1777, November 30__th_

"Enough of that."

I grimaced in disgust as the headless body slumped to the ground with a wet sound. I hadn't been prepared for it to happen, but didn't feel as bothered as one should be when witnessing such a brutal execution. Maybe Mr. Kenway had been right – maybe I was starting to lose my emotions. Or was I simply waiting to catch the recoil? Was my mind to slow to realize that the poor man really was dead?

"You did not have to kill him!"

Mr. Kenway scoffed. "He carried nothing of interest and could barely speak properly," replied my master casually and handed me back the gun. "Let's not waste time with all this pointless banter. Go catch up with the rest of Church's men, infiltrate that camp of theirs and see what you can discover."

Mr. Kenway glanced at me. "You will follow as well."

"But-" I started, but he quickly shook his head.

"Don't let me hear none of that." He cocked his head towards Connor. "It should be a shame to admit, but I don't really trust him. Seek to it that you actually _do_ find their hiding spot."

I sighed heavily and dared lifting my gaze to catch the Assassins. His eyes were grave, angry and disappointed, but the feelings weren't aimed towards me. I could see how much he would like to despise and disobey his father, but as I was bound with loyalty of heart, he was bound with Mr. Kenway through blood. And blood would always be thicker than water.

"Yes, sir," I said resignedly and exhaled. "But," I picked up my pistol he had used, "at least you could be as nice as to take care of this?" I asked. "I wouldn't want to lose it in the chase or the run, neither do I think it practical when I have my sword."

My teacher shrugged. "If it bothers you as I know it does when holding a gun, then hand it over," he replied and I gave the heavy weapon back to him. "You shouldn't really be hindered at all by this."

"I know," I said immediately. "It's just..." I hesitated before continuing, my voice almost a whisper. "I... I can't get the dead boy out of my mind."

Mr. Kenway looked at me in confusion but I turned away from him and started walking with my gaze fixed onto the white ground. I instantly regretted what I had said and hurried into a jog to keep myself warm.

"Are you coming, Assassin?" I called. "I'll see you later, sir!"

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind from the images of that fateful night for so many years ago. It still sickened me. Worse is that six days after the Boston Massacre, I had been sneaking by on the roofs and decided to make a quick visit to the Green Dragon Tavern, the inn housing the headquarters of the Templars. I had overheard my teacher praising Mr. Lee for initiating the slaughter of all those people on the market-place.

Mr. Charles Lee had almost caused my death and so had Mr. Kenway. They had brought death to Boston in a quantity never seen before, with a bone-chilling disregard for human life. Everything had happened with only the power of a gun. Therefore I despised using it and had sworn never to use it to kill, only to learn how to use and to threaten. And that was an oath I intended to keep.

No matter what.


End file.
